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Novell’s Unternational Series 


Between Life and 
Death 


BY 

FRANK BARRETT 

AUTHOR OF 

“Kit Wyndham,” “A Smuggler’s Secret,” Etc., Etc. 


Authorised Edition 

\ 

NEW YORK 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

150 Worth Street, corner Mission Place . 


Every work in this series is published by arrangement with the author. 


Issued Weekly. Annual Subscription, $15.00. August 28, 1890. 
Entered at New York Post Office as second-class matter. 


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CTS* 

1 . Miss Eton op Eton Court. By Katherine S. Macquoid 30 

2. Hartas Marturin. By H. F. Lester 50 

3. Tales op To-Day. By George R. Sims 30 

4. English Life Seen Through Yankee Eyes. By T. C. Crawford!!! . 50 

5. Penny Lancaster, Farmer. By Mrs. Bellamy 50 

6 . Under False Pretences. By Adeline Sergeant !.!! 5o 

7. In Exchange por a Soul. ' By Mary Liuskill 30 

8 . Guilderoy. By Ouida ! 30 

9. St. Cuthbert’s Tower. By Florence Warden !.!!!!!!! 30 

10. Elizabeth Morley. By K. S. Macquoid 30 

11 . Divorce; or Faithpul and Unfaithful. By Margaret L.e 5o 

12 . Long Odds. By Hawley Smart 30 

13. On Circumstantial Evidence. By Florence Marryni t !.!!!!!!!! 3o 

14. Miss Kate ; or Confessions op a Caretaker. By Rita 30 

15. A Vagabond Lover. By Rita 20 

16. The Search for Basil Lyndhurst. By Rosa Noucheite Carey! ! . ! ! ! 30 

17. The Wing op Azrael. By Mona Caird 30 

18. The Fog Princes. B 7 F. Warden !!!!!!!! 80 

19. John Herring. By S. Baring-Gould 50 

20. The Fatal Phryne. By F. C. Philips and C. J. Wills !...!!!! 30 

21 . Harvest. By John Strange Winter 30 

22. Mehalah. By S. Baring-Gould !!!!!!!! 50 

23. A Troublesome Girl. By “ The Duchess.” !!!!!! 30 

24. Derrick Vaughan, Novelist. ByEdnaLyall !!!!!! 3o 

25. Sophy Carmine. By John Strange Winter !! 30 

26. The Luck OP the House. By Adeline Sergeant. 30 

27. The Pennycomequicks. By S. Baring-Gould 50 

28. Jezebel’s Friends. By Dorx Russell !!!!!!!!! 30 

29. Comedy op a Country House. By Ju’ian Sturgis. !!.!!!!!!! 30 

30. The Piccadilly Puzzle. By Fers-us Hume 30 

31. That Other W’^oman. By A nnie Thomas !.!!!!!!!! 30 

32. The Curse op Carne’s Hold. By G. A. Henty !!!!!!!!! 30 

33. Uncle Piper op Piper's Hill. By Tasma !!!!!!!!! 30 

34. A Life Sentence. By Adeline Sergeant !.! 30 

35. Kit WvNDHAM. By Frank Barn it !!!! !! 30 

36. The Tree op Knowledge. By G. M. Robins !!!!!! 30 

37. Roland Oliver. By Justin McCarthy ^o 

38. Sheba. By Rita !!!!!!!! 30 

39. Sylvia Arden. By Oswald Crawfurd ! ! ! 30 

40. Young Mr. Ainslie’s Courtship. By F. C. Philips 31 1 

41. The Haute Noblesse. By George Manville Fenn ! ! ! ! * 30 

42. Mount Eden. By Florence Marryatt ! 30 

4.3 . Buttons. By John Strange Winter !!!!!!!!!! 30 

44. Nurse Revel’s Mistake. By Florence Warden !!!!!!!! .^o 

45. Arminell. By S. Baring-Gould !!! 50 

46. The Lament OP Dives. By Walter Besant !!! ' 30 

47. Mrs. Bob: By John Strange Winter 30 

48. Was Ever Woman IN THIS Humor Wooed. By Chas. Gibbon 30 

49. The Mynns Mystery. By George Manville Fenn 30 

50. Uedrl By Helen Mathers 30 


CONTINUED ON THIRD PAGE OF COVER. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 










XoveU '0 Untcrnational SedcSt “Ho. 125. 


BETWEEN LIEE AND 
DEATH 


FRANK BARRETT 

AUTHOR OF 

.“KIT VVYNDHAM,” “A SMUGGLER’S SECRET,” ETC., ETC. 


a/iiithonied Edition 


i' 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

150 WORTH ST., COR. MISSION PLACE 



. Rs'Zi (o 


Copyright, 1890, 

BY 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


CHAPTER I. 

“she stoops to conquer.” 

The Lecture Hall and Literary Institute, Monkton — a long, 
rectangular room, lit with six gas-jets on hanging T -shaped 
fittings ; the drab walls decorated with half a dozen maps ; 
the colored representation in section of a very early steam- 
engine ; an ethnological chart ; and other instructive works 
of art. At one end a small stage, opening fourteen feet by 
eight, flanked by red curtains, and furnished with six foot- 
lights and a drop-scene, showing Athens, the worse for many 
falls ; a grand piano below the proscenium by way of orchestra. 
The body of the hall ranged in parallel lines with red-cush- 
ioned rout seats, on which are closely pressed the relations 
and friends of pupils connected with Mrs. Vicary Shep- 
herd’s High School and Academy for the daughters of gentle- 
men. An overflow of bashful youths line the walls right and 
left. Three very warm-looking gentlemen, each with a packet 
of programmes in his hand and a white favor in his button- 
hole, are endeavoring, with smiling assiduity, to find places 
for a gang of late-comers ; while two more, similarly distin- 
guished, are striving at the entrance to make an honest 
working man, slightly the worse for liquor, understand that 
he cannot possibly be admitted without a ticket ; these are 
the 23rofessors, who “ have kindly volunteered their services 
as stewards on this occasion.” 

There is a general inspection of pink programmes, and a 
buzzing is heard. Even the professors speak in hushed 
tones, for. the general effect of the hall, despite the stage, is 
that of a Methodist chapel. A lady explains to a gentle- 
man — who seems, by some accident, to have come there with- 
out knowing why — what is toward : 


4 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ It’s a High School, j^ou know. Mrs. Vicary Shepherd — 
I’m sorry to see that she’s not here ; she is indisposed, I’m 
told — I hope it’s nothing contagious — is a lady of the most 
advanced modern views, and this entertainment has been got 
up to demonstrate the advantage of the elocution and deport- 
ment class.” 

“ Oh, I see.” 

“She wrote to the great tragedian — what is his name? — 
on the subject. Here is his reply on the back of the pro- 
gramme. It was he' who suggested what should be acted.” 

“ You don’t say so ! And what is the play he recom- 
mends ? ” 

“ ‘ She Stoops to Conquer.’ My little Milly takes the part 
of Diggory. She’s only twelve, you know. Mrs. Vicary Shep- 
herd assured me that, if she had only been a year or two ol- 
der, she should have asked me to let her play old Marlow. ” 

“Ah, indeed! Then all the performers are — eh — young 
ladies?” 

“ Oh, of course ; and, naturall}’, Mrs. Vicary Shepherd has 
carefully revised the play for the use of her pupils. Ah I 
that is Miss Tinkleton, the music mistress. It’s going to 
begin now.” 

Miss Tinkleton plays an elaborate sonata of Schumann — 
brilliant, but rather long ; not long enough, however, for the 
completion of arrangements behind the curtain. An awkward 
pause, in which the hurrying of feet, some giggling, and a 
confusion of whispering tongues are heard coming from the 
other side of Athens. A voice from the same remote part 
asks, “ Are j^ou ready now, young ladies ? ” to which a gen- 
eral reply of “No, no 1 not yet, not yet I ”in accents of terror, 
creates a titter among the audience. Miss Tinkleton, with 
admirable presence of mind, attacks another sonata ; but be- 
fore she gets to the foot of the page, a bell rings, and the cur- 
tain rises in three spasmodic jerks. Applause from the par- 
ents and friends of the young ladies, who are discovered in 
the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Ilardcastle, facing each other, 
and in doubt whether they ought to begin before Miss Tinkle- 
ton has gone through her sonata. Miss Tinkleton stops in 
the middle of a bar with confusion. The play proceeds, the 
rigid Mr. Hardcastle and the rigid Mrs. Hardcastle exchang- 
ing their quid pro quos with the regular intonation of a well- 
learnt lesson, and the audience already assuming, an air of 
calm repose and resignation, when a vociferous view halloo be- 
yond the red curtain, followed by the brisk entrance of Tony 
Lumpkin on the scene, fairly galvanizes the audience into life. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


5 


The entrance is clearly unrehearsed, for Mrs. Hardcastle incon- 
tinently forgets her parts. What does that matter ? Everyone 
is occupied with Tony, and he has the sense to turn the si- 
lence to effect. There he stands, a strapping black-eyed young 
fellow with a red wig, standing astraddle, looking audaciously 
at the audience as he cracks his riding-whip and whistles 
through a long row of white teeth. Suddenly', as if recollect- 
ing an engagement, he says, “ I’m off,” and crosses the stage 
with an unseen wink to Mrs. Hardcastle, and a quickl^*- 
wliispered line that she is.to take up. As he goes off battling 
stoutly with Mrs. Hardca.Htle at the end of the scene, every- 
one in the audience consults the programme, and (in whis- 
pered exclamation), “ Surely that cannot be Miss Vanessa 
Grahame ! ” is on everyone’s lips. But it is, though — Nessa 
herself, who, taking advantage of Mrs. Vicary Shepherd’s ab- 
sence, has determined to play the part as she conceives Gold- 
smith intended it to be played, and in defiance of Mi’s. Vicary 
Shepherd’s express injunction that she should not disfigure 
herself, has painted her pretty face — and especially her dainty 
nose — with ochre and rouge, and hidden her pretty waving 
chestnut hair with a red wig sent down with the costumes 
from Bow Street. What is more, she has got hold of an un- 
abridged copy of the play, and is determined to say every 
word of it, big D’s and all. 

The second scene is set, and Tony is then found at the 
head of the table with a long churchwarden pipe in his mouth. 
It is a real pipe and real tobacco that Miss Grahame smokes, 
too, puffing out the smoke in a cloud, and never choking once 
— though she was giddy and sick enough after it when she 
went off at the end. And here, to the terror of Miss Tinkle- 
ton at the piano, she introduced the second verse in the song 
of the “ Three Jolly Pigeons,” which Mrs. Vicary Shepherd 
had cut out, without a moment’s hesitation ; and also restored 
the vulgar word “jorum ” in the third verse, which had been 
changed to “goblet” by the careful lady. Moreover, she in- 
troduced a step dance in the final chorus of “ Torroddle, tor- 
roddle, torrol,” as if unable to contain the exuberance of her 
spirits. But that was not the worst. There is that dreadful 
part about Bet Bouncer, and here she slapped her leg and 
winked roguishly at the Bev. Mr. Wholeforth, whom she 
seemed specially to single out for that purpose ; and when it 
came to describing the road to Quagmire Marsh, she put a 
particular emphasis on the words, “ A damned long, dark, 
boggy, dirty, dangerous way,” as if “ very dark, etc.,” as INIrs. 
Vicary Shepherd had written it, was not good enough ! 


6 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


The act is finished, and Athens is once more in view. There 
is commotion in the auditorium. The ladies are shocked and 
alarmed. They cannot understand how Mrs. Vicary Shepherd 
could allow such a performance to be given. Deportment 
and elocution were all very well in their way, and Oliver 
Goldsmith was, undoubtedly, a very excellent writer, but 
really such language ! And how Miss Grahame, a young lady 
who, in a few years, would have a position in society^ith 
three thousand a year, however could she so forget herself ! 
Little Milly’s mamma is quite sure that her daughter would 
not have played the part in that dreadful manner. It is a 
most serious thing to have such a person in a school where 
her example, though, of course, contemned, might possibly 
influence her fellow-pupils. 

Paterfamilias listens with attentive gravity to the severe 
remarks of Materfamilias, but on the whole seems less dis- 
pleased with the performance, and indeed ventures a few ex- 
cuses ; but the young gentlemen along the walls do not conceal 
their delight. They have already got the worst lines by heart, 
and there is chuckling all along the line. The professors with- 
draw into the entrance lobby to conceal their feelings. Here 
they are joined by Miss Tinkleton with tears in her eyes. 
She has tried in vain to get behind the scenes by the one 
door, which is locked. No one would answer her knock. 
She feels that she will be held responsible for the terrible 
behavior of Miss Grahame, which will certainly ruin Mrs. 
Vicary Shepherd’s reputation. What is to be done? The 
professors really do not know ; but, as it is impossible to 
stop the performance, it is sapiently suggested that the wisest 
course is to let it go on. . Miss Tinkleton returns to the 
piano, and strenuously endeavors to restore the credit of 
the High School by the accurate rendering of another sonata. 
However, the worst is past, and Nessa inflicts no fresh shock 
upon the sensibilities of her audience. Audacious she is, but 
not indelicate ; certain expressions in the original she finds 
unspeakable, and adroitly avoids them ; but she abates noth- 
ing of her boisterous abandon, and throughout the play sus- 
tains admirably the part of T’ony. The audience sits out the 
performance with something more than patience ; the dash of 
impropriety in Miss Grahame’s acting gives something to 
think about and talk about when it in over ; and the majority 
go away very well content. But there are some who never 
will forgive Nessa ; these are the mammas of those young 
ladies whose light on the stage has been completely outshone 
by her. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


7 


They hear no name mentioned but that of Miss Grahame ; 
and the fact that she is a born actress, and certainly saved 
the entertainment from being insufferably tedious, is dwelt 
upon in tones intended for their ears, and with malicious 
emphasis by those other mammas who had desired that their 
daughters might not take part in the play. There is not a 
word said about the youthful Milly in the part of Higgory, 
and her mamma, taking the little darling home in a fury, and 
chiding her on the way for not speaking out so that she 
might be heard, sits down the moment she gets in to write a 
note informing Mrs. Vicary Shepherd that she cannot permit 
her daughter to commence another term if Miss Vanessa 
Grahame remains in her establishment. 

Meanwhile, a couple of young gentlemen who have been 
madly in love wuth Nessa for the past two years, and three or 
four others who have seen her to-night for the first time and 
have not that excuse, loiter outside the hall to see her pass to 
the omnibus that is waiting to take her and the rest of the 
boarders to the school at Westham. She comes down after 
the small fry, with her arm linked in Miss Tinkleton’s. 

The full moon is right overhead ; its light glistens on her 
white teeth and sparkles in her dark eyes as she laughs. She 
is clearly trying to make the poor governess forget her trou- 
ble, and indeed succeeds in raising a faint smile on her lugu- 
brious countenance. But though she is laughing and full of 
fun, Nessa is neither hoydenish nor vulgar. Those who have 
not seen her before to-night can hardly believe that it was 
she who played Tony. They expected to find her a red-faced, 
romping, heavy-sided tomboy ; they see a pale-faced young 
lady, dressed with striking elegance, whose every movement 
is graceful. But there’s no mistaking those big, fearless eyes, 
and that capital set of white teeth. 


CHAPTER IL 

PEEPABING FOR BATTLE. 

Mrs. Vicary Shepherd accepted only a limited number of 
pupils as boarders — just as many, in fact, as could be stowed 
away in the six rooms on the second floor of Eagle House. 
Among the many duties of a meek-spirited resident governess. 
Miss Tinkleton had each night to see the young ladies in bed 


8 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


before retiring to her own. She had visited five of the rooms 
and extinguished the light in them, when she came to the 
last in the corridor. That w^as Nessa's. Miss Tinkleton 
passed it with a slight cough and went down-stairs, Nessa 
having long ago emancipated herself from a rule that was 
only to be suffered by children. Five minutes later, the doors 
up the passage began to creak, and heads were cautiously 
thrust out ; then the white-robed young ladies, seeing the 
course clear, crept out, treading on their soft, bare toes, 
clasping the wraps thrown over their shoulders with crossed 
hands on their bosoms, and made their way noiselessly tow- 
ard the end room on a visit to their heroine, Nessa. With 
infinite precaution, one turned the handle, while the rest clus- 
tered together for common support, and did their best to 
keep from tittering audibly. But they ceased to giggle alto- 
gether when the door was opened, for there before them was 
the most unexpected spectacle to be found in this world of 
surprises. Nessa, who had never before been known to cry, 
was seated on her bed with a handkerchief up to her eyes, 
and her bosom heaving with stifled sobs. Her hat and jacket 
lay on a chair, but she had not begun to undress. Two 
trunks were open, and her room, never too tidy, w’as littered 
from end to side with things taken from the open drawers 
and put down anywhere. “ I can’t help it,” she said, brush- 
ing the tears away impatiently and heaving her breast with a 
long, fluttering sigh ; “and now it’s all over, I wish I hadn’t 
done it. I like Mrs. Vic and old Tinkleton. Oh, I love you 
all, and there’s no one else in the world I care anything at all 
for, or anyone who cares for me. I’m glad you have come. 
I’ve been trying to think what each of you would like best 
for a keepsake. Now you shall choose for yourselves. I 
know you like that pearl set, Dolly.” She rose in her quick, 
impulsive way to get the trinkets, but Dolly restrained her, 
and clinging to her arm, made her sit down again. 

“ You’re not going away, dear,” she said. 

“ Oh, no,” murmured the others, echoing her tone of re- 
monstrance. 

“ Yes, I am,” said Nessa ; “ that’s why I’m such a goose. 
I can’t bear to think of saying good-by, it has been such a 
jolly term, hasn’t it ? ” 

“ Do you think Mrs. Vic will be so very angry ? ” 

“ Of course she will. Tinkleton says I’ve ruined the repu- 
tation of the school.” 

“ Oh, but you can make some excuse.” 

“ I never did in my life,” Nessa said, bristling up. “ I 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


9 


will tell lier I am very sorry — and so I am ; but that isn’t 
making an excuse.” 

“ Oh, she won’t let you go away.” 

“ She cannot i^revent my going, and she won’t try to. I’m 
not a girl now ; I’m a woman, and it’s time I left school. I 
know all the professors can tell me ; or at any rate all I choose 
to learn ; and I’m unmanageable. How is Mrs. Vic to pun- 
ish me when I do wrong ? She can’t put me in a corner, or 
send me to bed. And I always am doing wrong.” 

The voices mingled in unanimous dissent. 

“ Mrs. Vic says I am. She tells me I encourage those hor- 
rid little wretches who stare at me in church, and dog us 
about, and throw letters into the garden ; and those profess- 
ors are quite as bad — if she only knew it, worse. I hate 
them. It’s an insult to make love in that cowardly wa3^ I 
think all men are mean and horrid, don’t you, Dolly ? ” 

“ Nearly all,” Dolly admitted, with reluctance. “ Of course, 
papa is nice, and so are brothers.” 

“ And uncles,” suggested another. 

“ And some cousins,” hinted a third. 

“ Oh, they don’t count,” said Nessa. “ I cannot remember 
my papa, and I don’t know that I have a single relative in all 
the world.” 

“ Not one?” 

‘‘No. A step-father is not a relative, and,” she added, 
bending her pretty brows, “ I’m glad of it, because I hate him 
with all my heart.” 

“ Oh, Nessa I ” 

“ I know he is a coward, and I believe he is as wicked a 
man as ever lived. Ah, if j’-ou only knew ! ” 

“ Couldn’t you tell us, dear ? ” 

“ Well, papa was a soldier — a general, you know, and he 
was killed in battle when I was quite a tiny little thing ; and 
mamma was very young and very pretty, and very rich, be- 
cause papa left her everything. And so, when I was about six 
years old, she married again ; and I believe Mr. Hedmond 
only married her for her fortune, and really did not love her 
at all. I know she was unhappy ; for whenever she came to 
see me at school, she cried over me as she held me in her 
arms. That made me cry too, and I used to ask her to take 
me home with her, so that we might live alwaj’s together, but 
all she could answer between her kisses was, “ One of these 
da^^s, love — one of these days.” I remember that quite well. 
Though I was such a little thing, I used to think about her, 
and cry in the night, seeing her in imagination : always un- 


10 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


happy, always in tears, as I saw her when she came to me. 
She did not live two years after her second marriage ; my 
step-father broke her heart.” 

“ Oh, you don’t know, dear.” 

“ Yes, I do. I’m sure of it. I have seen Mr. Kedmond, 
and he looks like a man who would break a woman’s heart.” 

“Is he very ugly ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! I dare say you would think him handsome. He 
is a fine, tall man, dark, with a black moustache ; but, oh, he 
has those long, sleepy, treacherous eyes, and those lines down 
here by the mouth, don’t you know? that people get Avho 
are always trying to conceal a wicked thought with a smile.” 

“ Oh, I hate those people who are always smiling. They 
get a shiny look on their faces, don’t they ? Go on, 
dear.” 

“I have only seen him four or five times, when I have been 
moved from one school to another ; but that is often enough 
for me, and for him too. He knows what I think of him and 
hates me ; and fears me, too. I’m certain. That is why he 
has kept me all this time at school — why he would keep me 
here until he has no longer any legal control over me. He 
thinks he is safe while I am here — that in this artificial life I 
can learn nothing about the real world. But he is mistaken, 
as he shall find. Wait a moment.” 

Nessa went to one of the boxes, and returned with an im- 
posing document tied with pink tape. 

“ Look at this,” she said. The girls gathered closely round 
her, and looked at the blue foolscap in breathless awe. “ This 
is a copy of mamma’s will. I sent to London for it. It’s 
very short. See, mamma leaves all her estate, ‘ real and per- 
sonal,’ to miB, her only child, Vanessa Grahame. You see, 
she says nothing about any one else ; but here,” turning the 
page with evident satisfaction in the crackle it made, “here 
is the codicil. Mamma has evidently been told that she must 
provide a guardian for me during my minority, and make 
some disposition of her property in case I should die before 
coming of age. And here she makes James Kedmond my 
sole guardian, with power to draw eight hundred pounds a 
year from the invested capital, to provide for my education 
and personal requirements. ‘ And further, in the event of the 
said Vanessa Grahame dying before the age of twenty-one ’ — 
I’m only eighteen now, you know — all the property goes to 
that horrid step-father, the aforesaid James Kedmond. Now, 
what do you think of that ? ” 

“Your poor mamma could not have loved him, or she 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 11 

would have left him some money, wouldn’t she, dear ? ” said 
Dolly. 

“ Of course she would ; but how is it that leaving nothing 
to him in the will, she leaves me to his tender mercies in the 
codicil ? Can you explain that, any of you ? ” 

None of them could. 

“ I can explain it,” said Nessa, raising her voice in excite- 
ment above the low whispering tone in which it had previ- 
ously been pitched ; “ this codicil is a forgery ! ” (Sensation.) 

“ Oh, Nessa ! ” 

“ It is, and it’s just the sort of forgery a cunning coward 
would make. He had not the courage to forge a will making 
the whole estate his ; but he had just enough to substitute 
his own name for one that mamma had written, and so get a 
nice little income for ever so many years out of the money 
for my schooling and clothes. He could do that without 
raising suspicion. What have I cost ? Not two hundred a 
year ; that puts him in possession of six hundred pounds, be- 
sides the use of my house, Grahame Towers.” 

The girls were lost in admiration of the heiress and her 
wonderful romance. It was quite like a story, and the part 
of heroine became her so well, with her pale face, her dark, 
fearless eyes, the soft hair flowing loosely over her well-shaped 
head, her beautiful young figure, and noble carriage ! Their 
young eyes were not learned enough to see her weakness and 
vanity, or the faults which are inseparable from every char- 
acter. She was not unconscious of their admiration or her 
own importance. 

“ When I received this,” said she, folding up the paper 
with unction, “I wrote to IVIr. Redmond, saying that I desired 
to leave school, and asked what arrangement would be con- 
venient to him to make for my accommodation during the 
three years that I was still nominally to be under his author- 
ity — for I am eighteen, you know. This was his reply.” 

She drew a letter from her pocket with the same impres- 
sive gravity, and opening it read : “ ‘ My dear Nessa ’ — what 
right has he to call me his dear Nessa ? — ‘ I have not a nomi- 
nal but an actual authority to control your movements, and 
while that authority is mine I intend to keep you at Eagle 
House or some similar establishment. Yours, etc., James 
Redmond.’ The letter is dated from my own house, Grahame 
Towers. It came this morning, just before we were going to 
the rehearsal. You can imagine my indignation ! ” 

“ You did seem rather worried, dear.” 

“ Oh, I was. To begin with, I didn’t like the part I had to 


12 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


play, as you know. As Mrs. Vic had written it out it was 
simply ridiculous. Now when the dresser told me how she 
had seen it played, I saw what a capital part it might be 
made ; and when I thought of this letter, I resolved to play 
it. So I sent to the station for a copy of Goldsmith, and 
studied it with the dresser, who promised to make me up 
exactly like the actor she had seen. Ha, ha ! thought I, we 
wull see if you are going to keep me at Eagle House, or 
some similar establishment, Mr. James Redmond. If I am 
expelled from one school, it’s pretty certain that another 
won’t take me when they hear what they are exposing them- 
selves to ! ” 

“ But isn’t it rather dreadful to be expelled, Nessa ? ” 

“ I shall not be expelled, I shall resign,” said Nessa, loftily. 
“ I have not studied the political history of the British con- 
stitution for nothing,” she added, with a flash of humor in 
her eyes. 

“ When are you going to resign, dear ? ” 

“ The very first thing to-morrow morning. I made Tinkle- 
ton promise she would say nothing about the performance to 
Mrs. Vic to-night, in order that I myself might tell her in the 
morning. You may be sure she was glad to get out of it. 
There’s another reason why I prefer to resign. If I were ex- 
pelled, Mrs. Vic would get nothing out of Mr. Redmond ; 
but if I resign, he must send her the payment for a term, 
and that will help to compensate the poor old soul for the 
injury I have done the school.” 

“ And where shall you go when you leave here ? ” 

“ To Grahame Towers, of course.” 

“ But aren’t you afraid, Nessa ? ” 

“Afraid of what — that coward? Not I. If I were a man 
I’d be a soldier like my father. There’s nothing I should 
like better than a good fight with that villain, Redmond.” 

“ But are you sure he’s a coward, dear ? ” asked one of the 
girls naively. 

“ I am certain that he is. I am anxious for to-morrow to 
come ; but, oh ! ” she added, with a sudden drop in her voice 
as the tears sprang into her eyes, “ I shall never have the 
heart to say good-by to you, dears.” 

There were hugging and kissing all around, and then Nessa, 
bursting away, said “Come, let us get it over now. There, 
take these, Dolly ; and now, little witch, you’re next. Choose 
what you would like.” 

But the “ little witch,” sitting on the bed with her face 
buried in her hands, shook her head and whimpered. She 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 


13 


was a strangely small girl for her age, with long thin fingers, 
a dark complexion, and black hair, long and sleek as an In- 
dian’s. Her ways were odd and seclusive. Sometimes the 
girls found her seated in the dark, huddled up with her chin 
resting on her knees, and her weird vacant eyes half-closed, 
as if her spirit was wandering in some other world. She 
could interpret dreams, and make sense out of the greatest 
rubbish. She was an authority on all that concerned signs 
and tokens and palmistry, and had worn a smuggled pack of 
cards limp in telling the girls’ fortunes. Her title was not un- 
merited. 

The girls gathered about her prepared for some new sen- 
sation in the romance of this night. Nessa alone seemed to 
be unawed. 

“ What’s the matter, you little goose ? Is there anything 
dreadful in giving presents ? ” 

“ Don’t, don’t ! ” pleaded the little witch, without removing 
her hands. “ It’s like Naomi, my sister. When she was go- 
ing to die she made us take things.” 

“ But I am not going to die. Look at me — do I look like 
it?” 

“You don’t know all,’* said the girl shivering, and whisper- 
ing so low that her words were scarcely audible. “ Not all 
that I know. I would not tell you, while it might do you 
harm to know, but I must now that it may sa , e you. Oh, 
you must not go.” She raised herself suddenl}^ and threw 
her arms about Nessa’s neck : “you, so beautiful and kind,” 
she added, nestling herself in Nessa’s ready embrace. 

“Why, dear, why?” whispered Nessa, coaxingl3^ 

“ You are in danger. Your life is not safe. There is go- 
ing to be a great change, and there is peril in your path. I 
have seen it whenever I have looked — in the cards, in your 
hand. Your line of life is broken in the nineteenth year.” 

Nessa was the only one of all the little group who was not 
terrified into silence by the little witch’s prophecy. 

“ Oh, come, this is too bad, after promising me last week 
that I should have riches and long life,” she murmured, play- 
fully, as she smoothed her cheeks upon the girl’s sleek hair. 
“ Two things can’t be true, you know, and of the two I would 
prefer to believe your first promise.” 

“ They are both true,” said the girl, with feverish eager- 
ness : “you will be happy if you live; but there are three 
years of terrible danger before you. It was that I dared not 
tell you. Oh, do, do stay with us till the peril is past.” 

Nessa herself stood now in silence, subdued with grave 


14 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 

perplexity by the earnestness of her little friend. But sud- 
denly a ray of intelligence gleamed in her face, and unclasp- 
ing the girl’s clinging arms from her neck, she put her away, 
holding her at arm’s length. 

“You little trickster! ” she. exclaimed, with mock disdain ; 
“ I have found you out. I see through your conjuring. You 
have been thinking about that clause in the codicil that puts 
Mr. Kedmond in possession of my fortune if I die before 
twenty-one, and it struck you that he might murder me for 
my money if he got me under his hand in Grahame Towers. 
I forgive you, dear,” she added, taking the child back to her 
bosom, and kissing her, “ for your sweet love of me ; but, 
oh, you are awfully mistaken if you think that fear would 
keep me from getting into difficulties.” 


CHAPTER m. 

A MEETING AT THE TOWEES. 

It was about five o’clock when Nessa reached her destination. 

“ Is it far to Grahame Towers ? ” she asked the porter. 

“ A matter of four or five miles before you get to the park, 
and then there’s the best part of a mile to the house. Take a 
fly, Miss?” 

“ Yes ; fetch my luggage, please. There are two tin boxes 
with my name on them — Grahame.” 

She changed her last half-sovereign at the refreshment bar, 
where she had a cup of tea, gave the porter a shilling, and 
looking in the portemonnaie at her slender resources as the 
fly started on its journey, she said to herself, “If I find no 
one there whatever shall I do?” 

She had taken irrevocable steps ; but her courage had been 
sorely tried by the love of those she was leaving behind for- 
ever. Even Mrs, Vic, at the last moment, had broken down, 
and forgiving her, with tears in her eyes, begged her to stay 
on. As for Tinkleton and the girls, the way they took on at 
parting was quite dreadful to remember. 

In addition to these memories, reaction after the excite- 
ment of last night made the girl’s heart very heavy indeed. 

Her spirits revived, however, when the driver, turning 
round, pointed with his whip to a massive building rising 
boldly out of the dark green oaks on a distant hill, and told 
her it was Grahame Towers. It was something to feel that 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


15 


a place of such imposing grandeur, with all those green woods 
about it, was hers. The pride of her heart was stirred again 
when she caught sight of the magnificent avenue guarded by 
rampant panthers flanking the great gates at the entrance. 
It was noble ! — and, thank goodness, the gates were open. 

Half-way up the great drive they met a wain charged with 
the trunk of an enormous oak. 

“ Cutting my timber ! ” exclaimed Nessa, with indignation. 

A little farther on the driver pulled up. A gentleman in 
shooting costume stood with a gun under his arm directly in 
the way. 

It was clear to see by his commanding presence that he 
was master there. 

As the fly stopped he came to the side, and, seeing a lady, 
raised his hat. 

It was three years since they met, and for the moment he 
failed to recognize Nessa, Three years make a great differ- 
ence in the appearance of a girl at that time of life ; they 
make little or none in a man of middle age. 

Nessa knew him at once, though his black whiskers, which 
were formerly trimmed to a point, were now shaved to the 
fashionable military cut — she knew him by those long, sleepy 
eyes, and that odious smile. 

She bowed with severe formality. 

In that moment he perceived that the haughty young lady 
before him was the disagreeable child he had seen last in a 
short dress. 

“Nessa!” he exclaimed, the amiability going suddenly 
from his face, and leaving no trace save the two lines from 
the wings of his nostrils, “why on earth have you come 
here V ” 

“ Because it is my home, and I intend to stay here for the 
present.” 

“ You will do nothing of the kind. I told you that it was 
my wish you should stay in the school where I placed you.” 

“ As you see, I have not stayed there.” 

“Then you will be good enough to return at once.” 

“ Quite out of the question ; I have rendered that impossi- 
ble.” 

“How?” 

“ This is hardly a suitable place for discussing our affairs, 
Mr. Redmond.” 

Nessa glanced significantly at the attentive driver. 

“Discussing our affairs, indeed! The discussion begins 
and ends here.” 


16 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


“ As you will,” said Nessa, with a shrug of her shoulders 
and a particularly provoking air of calm resignation. 

“ I insist upon your returning to Westham at once.” 

“It is no good insisting unless you can compel me to go ; 
and you cannot do that ” 

“At least I can prevent you from staying here, and I will,” 
cried the man, livid with anger. “Turn round,” he added, 
addressing the driver imperatively. 

The driver turned about with a grin on his broad face, and 
said : 

“ Where am I to take you now. Miss ? ” 

“To the nearest magistrate.” 

“ Why, that’s Sir Thomas Bullen at the Chase.” 

“Then drive to the Chase.” 

Then turning slightly toward Redmond, she added, “If I 
have no right to set foot in my own house, you certainly have 
none.” 

“ You think the magistrate has the power to settle a legal 
question of that kind ? ” Redmond said, with an assumption of 
contempt that failed to check his anxiety, laying his hand on 
the side of the fly, keeping pace with it as the driver turned 
the horse’s head. 

“ No ; but he may tell me what steps to take to prevent 
you from cutting the timber on my estate,” said Nessa, be- 
ginning to lose control of her temper ; “ and he may tell me,” 
she continued, with rising anger, “ how I may learn whether 
the eight hundred a year allowed for my maintenance has 
been properly applied.” 

The blow stunned Redmond. He had reason to dread in- 
quir3% He could say nothing. His narrow, unsteady eyes 
betrayed the fear and the venomous hatred in his heart. 

“ Who-oah ! ” cried the driver, reining in his horse, as a 
light phaeton came sharply round the bend in the drive. 

“ Damnation ! ” muttered Redmond, furiouslj^, as he caught 
sight of the phaeton and the lady who drove in it , the next 
moment, with abject entreaty in his face, he turned to Nessa 
and said hurriedly, in a low tone : 

“For God’s sake, go away ! There’s an hotel in Lulling- 
ford. I’ll meet you there this evening, and agree to anything 
you like to propose.” Then, with an oath for the stolid man 
on the box, “ Drive on. What are you waiting for ? ” 

The driver turned phlegmatically to Nessa for instructions. 
He was getting interested in the imbroglio, and was in no 
hurry. Nessa was the last person in the world to be moved 
by a bribe, and the bare idea of quitting the park as if she 


'BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


17 


had no right to be there was sufficient incentive to stay 
there. Added to this, the lady in the phaeton so managed 
her spirited cob with rein and whip as to make it doubtful 
which side of the road she intended to keep. She wished to 
know something more about this fly and the horse and the 
young lady, who even at a distance was strikingly pretty in 
her close-fitting jacket and neat hat. As she at length pulled 
up, almost within hand’s reach of Nessa, she bowed, and looked 
to Redmond for an explanation. 

There was no help for it. Redmond, with a sufficiently 
bad grace, introduced the two ladies. 

Miss Grahame, my — eh — step-daughter ; Mrs. Redmond, 
my wife.’* 

Mrs. Redmond smiled very sweetly, and bowed again. 
She was a very showy woman, tall and comely, with a heavy 
plait of shining yellow hair ; dark eyebrows and lashes ; and 
the most lovely pink-and-white complexion. Her white nose 
was a little too short, perhaps, and her upper lip a little too 
long ; but her mouth was as small, and her eyes as large and 
divinely blue as the conventional angel’s. At a distance 
Nessa thought she could not be more than five- or six-and- 
twenty, but, on closer examination, she suspected herself in 
error. A little crease in the eyelid, a little pleat under the 
eye, a certain hardness and thinness in the mobile nostrils, 
and a pucker in her throat when she turned her head, made 
Nessa believe that she might be five- or six-and-thirty, or 
even more ; for people with that sort of complexion look 
young so long. On the whole, Nessa felt disposed to like 
Mrs. Redmond — she looked so amiable and simple, despite 
the touch of bistre under her eyes, which surely could not be 
natural. 

But, while Nessa had been coming to this conclusion, the 
woman had arrived at a far more definite estimation of her 
character, and decided, among other things, that she was a 
young person whom it would be far easier to lead than to 
drive. 

With the sweet expression still upon her face, Mrs. Red- 
mond turned from Nessa to her husband, with the slightest 
interrogative lifting of her prettily-arched eyebrows. 

“Miss Grahame came here to pay us a visit,” he explained, 
with ill-concealed embarrassment ; “ but I have persuaded 
her to return to the hotel at Lullingford, where she -will be 
much more at her ease. We have no accommodation in this 
wretched old ruin, you know.” 

“ Oh, we are not so badly off as that, dear. AVe can cer- 
2 


18 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH’ 


tainly find a room, and if Miss Grahame will accept the best 
we have to ofier ” 

“Well, settle it as you please,” interruj^ted Kedmond. 
“I’m off for an hour’s shooting,” and, raising his hat, he 
turned his back and hurried off— saving himself, as was his 
habit, from the present difficulty, and leaving the worst for 
the future. 

“ Shall we walk up to the house, dear ? Then we can talk 
as we go along,” said Mrs. Redmond. 

Nessa accepted readily. Mrs. Redmond handed the reins 
to the old man in livery who occupied the seat beside her, 
and, stepping to the ground, shook Nessa heartily by the 
hand. 

“ You will bring the luggage up to the house,” she said to 
the flyman. 

“ If this here sort of thing goes on much longer,” said the 
driver, as he once more turned his horse round, “ my old os’ 
will fancy he’s in a suckus! ” 

“Do you know, dear,” said Mrs. Redmond, taking Nessa’s 
arm as they walked toward the house, “ this is the first time 
I ever heard your name ! Men are so reserved about busi- 
ness matters, and I suppose you have some business relations 
with him ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; he is my guardian. I came here to have an un- 
derstanding with him about my position.” 

“ Your guardian ! How odd he should never have told me 
anything about it. I feel quite hurt, dear ; it looks almost like 
a want of confidence. I knew, of course, that Mr. Redmond 
was a widower when I married him, but he never told me that 
Mrs. Grahame had left any children. Perhaps he thought I 
should want to have you with me — as I certainly should, hav- 
ing no children of my own — that was accountable while you 
were a child, for men don’t like children. But you are not a 
child now. Have you any brothers or sisters?” 

“No, I don’t know that I have any relations at all ; I have 
never seen, never heard of any,” said Nessa ; and she gave a 
brief outline of her life at school, warming up as she W'ent on 
under the stimulating sympathy of her companion, and tell- 
ing finally the manner of her leaving Eagle House. 

[Mrs. Redmond was immenselj’’ tickled with her account of 
the performance, which Nessa gave with considerable humor, 
being of an impulsive and expansive nature. 

“You can’t tell how glad I am that you have come here, 
dear,” said Mrs. Redmond ; “ and I’m sure that, with the 
money it would cost to keep you at school, you can provide 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


19 


amply for all your wants. Of course, your mamma left a 
proper provision for you ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. I have a copy of her will in my box. I was to 
have eight hundred a year during my minority.” 

“ Eight hundred a year ! That’s quite a great deal. Eight 
hundred a year ! ” she repeated, reflectively. “ But, surely, 
dear, you will soon be of age ; you look quite a woman.” 

“ I shall not be of age for three years.” 

“ Why, how old can you be ?” 

“ I was eighteen in June.” 

“ Only eighteen ! And, of course, when you are twenty- 
one you will have more even than you have now.” 

“ Oh, I shall have everything. This estate — all is left to me.” 

Mrs. Redmond stopped with an exclamation that had some- 
thing of dismay in it ; but quickly recovering her self-pos- 
session, she drew Nessa’s arm closer to her side, and said : 

“ You must forgive me, dear. This is such a surprise, and 
I feel so wounded to think that my husband should not have 
told me something about his position. I dare say he has his 
own independent fortune ; but beyond that he has nothing 
whatever to come — to come from this estate ? ” 

“ Nothing that he can legally claim ; but of course,” said 
Nessa, her generous disposition overcoming her late hostil- 
ity — “ of course I should never — never — ” She hesitated, at a 
loss to find a phrase that might assure her new friend of a 
kindly intention without wounding her feelings. 

“ I know what you would say,” said Mrs. Redmond ; “ that 
if my husband should happen to be in difficulties, and we 
found ourselves without a penny in the world at the end of 
three years, you would give us a home and — and food — ” She 
stopped, choked with disappointment, indignation, envy, and 
malice ; but in the next moment masked her feelings under a 
J iidas’s kiss, as she murmured, “ Oh, you dear, dear, gener- 
ous, kind-hearted friend ! ” 


CHAPTER IV. 

A DAY OP RECKONING. 

An embarrassing silence succeeded Mrs. Redmond’s effusive 
outburst as they walked on, and then, happily, Nessa found 
something else to think about and talk about as they came to 
the end of the drive and she got a fair view of the house. 


20 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


It was a long, gabled building, standing on a terrace, with 
a gatehouse in the middle flanked by two towers, the gate 
opening on to a courtyard beyond. The face of the west 
wing was completely covered with ivy ; the growth ou the 
east wing had been cut away in places to give light to the 
windows of the inhabited rooms, and stripped down from the 
richly-carved bargeboard of the end gable. The gatehouse 
and one of the towers alone showed the rich red bricks of the 
buildiuo- and something of its fine architectural details. One 
of the chimney-stacks in the west wing had fallen ; there was 
a black hole in the lichen-covered roof where the tiles had 
been broken in. The weathercock over the gate had lost two 
of its arms ; a rusted beacon basket hung from an iron gib- 
bet on the tower. It was very picturesque, but particularly 
dismal. The ornamental grounds in the foreground gave evi- 
dence of neglect that was hardly less depressing to Nessa’s 
spirits than the signs of decay in the fine old house. What 
must at one time have been a smooth lawn was now nothing 
but a waste of rank grass and thistles ; clumps of brier and 
bramble marked the place of flower-beds. The yew hedge 
skirting the lawn was ragged and patchy ; the trimmed figures 
in it had grown into shapeless monsters ; there was not even 
a wild flower to give a touch of gayety to the sombre scene. 

“ Oh, I didn’t think it was like this ! ” Nessa exclaimed, with 
an accent of regret. 

“ I dare say not. I would not have come if I had known 
what it was like. It’s like a horrid old church, and the rooms 
smell like vaults. And, look — nothing but trees to be seen. 
I detest the country.” 

“ Then why did you come ? ” 

“Because my husband talked about a pony-chaise, and a 
fine old mansion, and shooting parties, and the society of 
good old country families. I got the pony-chaise — before I 
left London ; but as to the rest — well, that’s the fine old 
mansion, the only shooting party I’ve seen is my husband, 
and the nearest good old family lives three miles off, and is 
never at home. I’m sorry enough I ever came here ; and so 
are you, dear, already, I dare say.” 

“ No, I am not,” replied Nessa, in a tone of firmness that 
was not lost upon her observant companion. “ Oh, it’s a 
shame to let the place go like this ! ” she added, catching 
sight of a piece of carved wood on the heap of ivy that had 
been torn down from the bargeboard. 

“I suppose somebody is responsible for the estate,” said 
Mrs. Redmond, tentatively. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


21 


“ Yes ; I know there is a clause in the will providing a 
certain fund for the e;£;ecutor to employ in keeping the house 
and park in order.” 

“ In addition to the sum for your maintenance, dear ? ” 

“ Yes ; the two are quite distinct. You shall see for your- 
self.” 

“I might be able to explain it. Tell me, dear, who is the 
executor.” 

“ Mr. Redmond.” 

Mrs. Redmond’s face expressed no surprise now, but rather 
confirmation in a foregone conclusion, as she nodded her 
head slowly, half closing her eyes, her small mouth so tightly 
pursed that her long upper lip formed an unbroken line with 
her chin, her thin nostrils whitening with their dilatation. 

Nessa felt inexpressibly uncomfortable, finding in her 
hostility to Redmond an ally in his wife. She would rather 
have dealt with both as enemies or friends. 

The flyman had discharged the luggage, and was waiting at 
the gate to be paid. Nessa would have hastened her steps, 
but Mrs. Redmond detained her. 

“One moment, dear,” said she, stoj^ping short ; “do you 
know how much that fund was for keeping the house in re- 
pair ? ” 

“ Two thousand pounds, I think.” 

“ And as he has not spent a penny of the money on the 
place, he will have that nice little sum to answer for when 
the time comes to settle with you. He can put that off for 
three years ; but there’s another account that he will have to 
settle to-night. His day of reckoning with me has come ! ” 


It was past ten when Redmond entered the house. Leav- 
ing his gun in the long hall, he opened the door of the 
library, that served now as a living-room, and walked in 
with as good an air of carelessness as he could assume. A 
lamp burnt on the oak table ; the shade casting a bright glare 
of light upon the dark wood, threw all bej’^ond its circle into 
darkness. He looked furtively* round, and then, encouraged 
by the silence to hope that there was no one in the room, he 
tilted the shade and glanced beyond. The light fell upon his 
wife, stretched at full length on a couch, and in particular lit 
up her fine eyes, which were fixed on himself. “ Hope I 
haven’t woke you up,” he said, lightly. 

“ No.” 

“ Are you alone ?.” 


22 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Yes.” 

“ Where’s Miss Graham e ? ” 

“Gone to bed.” 

There was nothing unusual in Mrs. Eedmond’s laconic re- 
plies. Neither of them wasted words upon the other under 
ordinary circumstances. He began to think that things were 
not so bad as he had expected. That so frequently happens. 
He sat down, feeling quite amiably disposed toward his 
wife. 

“ Sorry she’s gone,” he said,. “ I wanted to make it all right 
with her. You know I wanted to send her back to Lulling- 
ford, because I thought she would be such a bother to you, 
as we have only one servant here.” 

“ She will not give me any trouble.” 

“ I should have come home before, but I met that Johnson, 
don’t you know ? and he would have me go home with him.” 

“Indeed!” 

“ Hope you didn’t wait dinner for me.” 

“No; I knew you wouldn’t come home till you thought 
the coast was clear. You never do when you’re afraid.” 

“ Afraid 1 You don’t suppose I fear that girl ! ” His voice 
rose. 

“ If you don’t fear her yet a while, you do me.” ,Her voice 
rose also. 

“ May I ask what reason I have to fear you ? ” he asked, in 
that lofty tone assumed by those people who put on what 
they call “side.” 

“ You fear me, I suppose, because you have not a great 
stock of courage. If you cannot imagine any other reason, 
it’s not worth the trouble of talking about.” 

“ Oh, of course, you are angry because I didn’t tell you of 
the existence of this girl. What was the use of telling you ? 
You would only have worried about it.” 

“And you do not like being worried, do you ? ” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“ There, we will say no more about it.” And by a con- 
siderable effort of self-control she maintained a silence that 
perplexed and troubled her luisband. 

At length, affecting a yawn, and stretching his arms, he 
said, 

“ Are you coming up now?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I shall. I’m done up. By the way,” he added, 
rising, “I think I shall go over to the Moor for three or four 
days’ shooting.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


23 


“ You needn’t stay away so long. Miss Graliame is going 
to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, well, I’m glad of that. Where’s she going ? ” 

“ To London, with me.” 

“What are you going there for?” 

“ To see your wife’s will at Somerset House.” 

Redmond’s hands dropped into his pockets, and he stared 
at his wife in silent astonishment. She was looking now 
placidly at her toes, which she kept tapping together as her 
heels rested on the couch in a monotonous rhythm. 

“You know what’s in that will?” he said, with difficulty 
stead^dng his voice. 

“ I know what was in the will you showed me when your 
wife was dying. She left everything to her ‘ dear husband, 
James Redmond.’ But that does not agree with the copy 
Miss Grahame showed me this evening, in which your wife 
leaves everything to her ‘ dear daughter, Vanessa Grahame.’ 
I’m going to find out the truth with my young friend.” 

He sank down on the chair, looking aghast at his wife. 
When she languidly turned her eyes toward him, he shifted 
his chair that the light of the lamp might not fall on his face. 
She laughed at his discomfiture. There was no getting out of 
it ; he wanted now to know the worst. 

“ And what shall we do,” he asked, with an effort, “ suppos- 
ing the will is in favor of that girl ? ” 

“ Supposing it is ! ” she said, dropping her feet to the 
ground quickly. “ Supposing it is ! ” she replied, rising and 
coming toward him with slow steps that kept time to her 
words. “You lying, cowardly, mean, miserable, crawling cad 
— you Jcnoiv it is ! And you ask me what I shall do, as if I 
were fool enough to show my hand to such a shuffiing trick- 
ster as you. One thing you may be sure of — I shan’t stay to 
go down in a sinking ship with you. And go down you will, 
as surely as any other fool who puts out in a rotten shell. I 
shall see you in rags, whining for charity to the girl you have 
robbed — if you are not sent to prison for robbing children in 
the streets ; that’s the only crime you have the courage for.” 

He did not attempt to defend himself. She looked at him, 
the supine villain, in mute disgust for a minute ; then her rage 
rising again with the sense that she had been waxed by such 
a creature, she continued : 

“ The will you showed me when your wife was dying was 
a forgery — you admit it ” — he did not deny it, but sat in stolid 
silence — “you forged it to hoodwink me. I believed it was 
a forgery, but I gave you credit for enough courage to stand 


24 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


by the forgery for your own sake. AVhy didn’t you let the 
will stand, you fool?” 

“ I should have been found out ; she had already made a 
will — the will that exists. It was too obvious ; and I — I — I 
couldn’t get the signature right. I — I couldn’t sleep until it 
was burnt.” 

“You thought only of your own comfort — of sleeping easily. 
You never thought of me. You w^ere content with having 
tricked me — with taking me out of the profession to satisfy 
your wretched jealousy, with leading me to throw away a 
dozen chances of settling well. I might have had any man I 
chose to look at.” 

“You preferred me.” 

“Why? Not for your virtues. You know it was for a 
fortune I accepted you. And having got me to believe in 
your promise, you did nothing to fulfil it.” 

“ Yes, I dii I took her brother’s name out of the codicil 
and put in my own. That was safe. It gave us twelve thou- 
sand pounds — and you’ve had your share of it. I didn’t do 
that without risk. The will -would have been disputed if the 
brother hadn’t died in the very nick of time, thank God ! ” 

“ How much is there left of that money ? ” 

“ Not a penny. I’m cutting the trees to pay your debts. 
It’s you who have spent it all. I am a careful man.” 

“ You will have to be more careful in the future — especially 
in your dealings with women. Before a week’s out you will 
have to answer for the money you have misappropriated, and 
3’’ou won’t cut a stick, unless it’s your own, after to-morow.” 

He wiped the perspiration from his face with his trembling 
hand. 

“I’ve done everything for the best,” he whined. “God 
knows I haven’t got much pleasure by it. It was all for you. 
I shouldn’t have done it for myself. You won’t hunt me 
down for that, wall you ? ” 

She had seated herself, and sat tapping the ground impa- 
tiently with her feet. Her silence encouraged him to hope 
faintly. 

“ It’s no good flogging a dead horse,” he muttered. 

She turned her shoulder upon him with a jerk, and an ex- 
clamation of disgust and contempt. 

“ Dead horse ! If you had the spirit of a cur I could hate 
you less.” 

“You can do yourself no good ; she can’t touch a farthing 
of her fortune for three years. Why not let things go on 
till the worst comes.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


25 


“Do you think the girl will wait passively while you rob 
her for three years ? Not she. She doesn’t need my help— 
doesn’t want it. If I help her it is simply to help my- 
self.” 

“ She can do nothing without money. You have not lent 
her anything ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Then what can she do? She has no friends.” 

“ None ? ” 

“Not a soul. She can’t get to London without money ; 
and if she could, what lawyer would open a suit in Chancery 
without seeing his fees ? You have not promised to take her 
to a lawyer ? ” 

“ It wouldn’t matter what I had promised if I altered my 
purpose.” 

“ You won’t take her, Maud,” he entreated. 

“ Can you suggest anything more to my advantage ? ” She 
turned about and looked him steadily in the face as she 
slowly put the question. 

He tried to meet her eyes that he might learn from them 
what it was she expected of him. 

“ We have been a long while coming to the point ; but I 
thought it might be worth while,” she continued in the same 
slow, suggestive undertone. 

“ I should have sat up all night to speak to you on the sub- 
ject.” She paused again, giving him time to get the idea she 
had led up to. 

He blinked under her fixed regard, and then faltered. 

“ Of course I wdll do all I can for you. Three years is a 
good long time. And the timber is valuable.” 

“ Bah ! ” she exclaimed, turning away once more in impa- 
tient disgust. “ You are only fit to be a pickpocket.” And 
then, as quickly turning back upon him, “ Do you think I am 
to be satisfied with despicable pilfering ? Do you think a 
few poiinds — a few thousands, if you like — do you think that 
will recompense me for the best years of my life that have 
been thrown away upon you ? ” 

“ W’^hat can I do ? ” he asked in a piteous tone of helpless- 
ness. 

“What can you do?” she repeated. “Why get me the 
whole of that fortune for which I married you.” 

“How can I— how can I? The money can only come to 
me, even by that codicil, in the event of the girl’s death.” 

Mrs. Kedmond rose from lier chair, and crossed noiselessly 
to the door. She opened it quickly, and glanced up and 


26 


BETWEEIT LIFE AND DEATH 


down the hall ; then she closed it, and returning to her hus- 
band, she said : 

“ You’ve got it at last ? That’s it ! The girl must die ! ” 


CHAPTEE V. 

THE FIRST STEPS. 

Nessa awoke suddenly. In the confusion of ideas and im- 
pressions at that moment she was conscious of a shapeless 
dream, of a brusque movement, of a light dazzling her eyes, 
and of a voice murmuring unintelligibly in her ear. Then, 
as her intelligence awakened, she perceived that she was 
crouching on the floor beside a bed, that the dazzling light 
was nothing more than a chamber candle, and that somebody 
was supporting her, whom she presently recognized as ]\Irs. 
Eedmond. 

“ What is it ? Where am I ? ” she gasped in bewilder- 
ment. 

“It’s all right, dear. You are in your own room. See, 
this is your bed. Don’t be frightened ! You’re awake now, 
aren’t you ? You know who I am ! ” 

Nessa rose to her feet, and, still dazed, looked about her. 
She recognized the deep dormer windows — the leaded panes 
of the casement she had put open, on which the light of the 
moon was now reflected. It was Mrs. Eedmond by her side, 
with the long plait of shining yellow hair falling over her 
shoulders on the crimson dressing-gown. 

“ When did I come here — I don’t understand ? ” she said. 

“ Why, you came here last evening. Oh, dear, what a 
fright you have given me ! ” Mrs. Eedmond sank down on 
the side of the bed, putting her hand on her heart. The 
caudle on the floor, where M!rs. Eedmond had set it, flared in 
the current of night air from the open window. 

“ What have I been doing ? ” asked Nessa, now wide 
awake. 

“ You have been walking in your sleep : that’s all ; but 
you scared me out of my wits.” 

“ Walking in my sleep ! ” Nessa repeated incredulously. 

“Yes, dear— you were halfway down the great stairs. 
When I heard the stairs creak I thought it must be my hus- 
band come home. Oh, you can’t tell what a turn it gave me 
when I caught sight of you there in your white night-dress ! 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


27 


I knew you must be asleep by the way in which you felt the 
wall as you went along. But I managed to keep my self- 
possession, knowing how dangerous it is to wake people 
suddenly when they are like that. Your eyes were quite 
closed when I came to your side, and you suffered me to lead 
you gently back to your room like a little child. But in at- 
tempting to lift you into bed I woke you ; and the moment 
your eyes opened your strength seemed to go, and you fell 
down. Don’t 3'ou remember ? ” 

“ I don’t remember anything ! ” exclaimed Nessa — “ not 
anything. Oh, I am so sorry I frightened you.” 

“ Don’t say a word about that. I am only too happy to 
have heard you. Heaven only knows what might have hap- 
pened in a horrid old den like this if I had not discovered 
you. There’s a door somewhere that opens into the tower, 
where the floor has rotted away. If you had gone through 
there nothing could have saved you, you must have been 
killed. Get into bed, dear.” 

Nessa obeyed, quite overcome with astonishment at what 
she had heard. 

“ Is it late ? ” she asked. 

Mrs. Bedmond, looking at the watch on the table as she 
picked up the light, told her it was half past twelve, and then 
offered to stay with her ; but Nessa would not listen to this. 
Such a thing had never happened to her before, and she was 
sure it would never again. So, after a little half-hearted 
persistence on Mrs. Kedmond’s part — she seeming much 
more terrified than Nessa — they said “ good-night ” with an 
exchange of kisses, and Mrs. Bedmond went down to her 
bedroom on the floor below. 

Bedmond was waiting there in the dark, his hands in his 
pockets thumbing a piece of paper into pellets, in anxious 
suspense. He raised his eyebrows interrogatively as his 
wife entered with her finger raised ; she replied with a nod, 
signifying that the prepared scene had been acted satisfac- 
torily. 

“ She was lying on the edge of the bed,” whispered Mrs. 
Bedmond, after closing the door carefully. “ I pushed her 
down to the floor, and when she woke up staring about her 
like a fool. I made her believe I had found her half-way down 
stairs walking in her sleep. Bemember that it won t do to 
tell two stories.” 

'‘I won’t forget,” muttered Bedmond, approvingly. 

‘‘Now as I’ve made a beginning we’ll just settle clearly 
what’s to be done next, and what part you are to play.” 


28 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Eedmond nodded, they sat down together and plotted the 
destruction of the young girl who slept over their heads. 

Nessa awoke early the following morning, invigorated by 
her long sleep, and feeling not a pin the worse for what had 
happened in the night. It returned to her memory, as she 
crossed the room to look out of the dormer window, and then 
only aroused a pleasant self-interest. Most young persons 
feel flattered by the discovery that they are distinguished 
from the rest of young persons by some peculiarity. The sun 
shone brightly on the dark oaks ; a gray veil of mist hung 
over the valley, making it look like a lake ; an industrious 
spider was spinning his marvellous net in the casement ; a 
drop of dew glittered like a jewel on a blade of grass spring- 
ing out of the moss-covered parapet. These things w^ere 
observed by the young girl as she stood by the open window, 
and gave her a new zest for life. 

It was quite early — not even seven o’clock. She shrewdly 
guessed that Mrs. Redmond was not the kind of a woman 
who rises early, and would not be down to breakfast before 
ten o’clock, or thereabouts ; so she would have three hours 
for exploring the old house and looking about her. After all, 
she reflected, it was not so bad. She was free to do what she 
liked for the time. It was wonderfully romantic ; and the 
prospect of a severe tussle with Mr. Redmond w^as rather 
cheerful than depressing. She did not bear much malice in 
her young heart. It was pretty clear he had misappropriated 
some money ; but every one is liable to get into difficulties, 
and we have all faults to be forgiven. Very likely she and he 
would dislike each other at first ; but if they both gave way, 
and showed forbearance, they might in the end settle down 
comfortably. In three years she w’ould have more money 
than ever she could know what to do with, and she should 
not miss, and certainly would not begrudge, the sum neces- 
sary to put the old house in order, and make some provision 
for Mr. and Mrs. Redmond without hurting that poor lady’s 
feelings. 

With these charitable intentions she occupied her thoughts 
while she dressed, and that took no time. Then she began 
to explore the house, admiring the wonderful old furniture, 
and the pictures on the noble staircase, which looked all the 
finer for the dim light percolating through the ivy-screened 
windows. Going no further than the threshold of the very 
dark rooms, from a fear of rats and rotten floors, and shrink- 
ing back with a shiver from the black soil on the other side of 
the heavy iron-bound door on the landing, which undoubt- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


29 


edly must be the floorless tower that Mrs. Eedmond had 
spoken about in the night, she went down through the old 
hall, with its trophies of antlers and armor, pausing before 
the modern sword and plumed hat hung between tigers’ skins 
with the proud conception that her father had worn that hat 
and carried that sword into battle, and then she passed out 
through the open door into the open air. 

How fresh and sweet and bracing the morning breeze 
seemed after the musty smell of those dark old rooms I She 
got her feet wet in the rank grass crossing to have a full view 
of the house. It was a grand old building — that it was. No 
wonder she exulted in the knowledge that it belonged to her ; 
that she would be sole mistress there in a few years, with the 
possession of all the grounds about, with their magnificent 
acres. She spent a good ten minutes trying to settle how she 
would have the buildings and grounds arranged so that their 
character might be retained, at the same time that they would 
be a cheerful residence for herself, where she might invite all 
her school friends to come, and Tinkleton, and old Mrs. Vic 
as well. Her bosom sw'elled with the most delicious plans of 
entertaining every one she knew in the most magnificent style 
— always, of course, without pretentious ostentation on her 
own part. And then she ran in to write to all those friends 
and tell them all about it, feeling, as she ran, that it was good 
to live. 

Heaven knows how many letters she had written when Mrs. 
Redmond came down — and then there was a still forgotten 
postscript to put in one of them. It was nearly eleven 
o’clock, and she had been writing all the time ; but she was 
not a bit fatigued, and could have found twice as much to 
say. 

Mrs. Redmond was astonished to find her so fresh and 
bright after what had happened in the night. She was dis- 
posed to regard it as a very serious matter. Nessa laughed 
at it. 

“ You must lock me up, and then I shan’t frighten you 
any more,” she said. 

But Mrs. Redmond would not treat the affair lightl3\ She 
knew so many instances — mostly drawn from works of fiction 
— in which sleep-walking had led to fatal consequences ; and 
gave them in such lengthy detail that it seemed she could 
think of nothing else. Nessa would have given anything for 
a slice of bread and butter. 

“Is Mr. Redmond coming down to breakfast?” she asked, 
on the first opportunity, by way of changing the subject. 


30 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


** My dear, I haven’t seen him since we met in the park 
yesterday,” Mrs. Kedmond replied, with the utmost coolness. 
‘‘When there’s anything unpleasant at home he generally 
finds business to keep him away. And knowing what he has 
to expect from us, it’s very likely that he won’t show his face 
here for a week. We certainly will not wait breakfast for 
him.” She rang the bell, to Nessa’s hearty satisfaction, but 
turning, she asked, “Did you ever see the opera of ‘Som- 
nambula,’ dear?” 

Nessa shook her head. 

“ Oh, dear, oh, dear ! ” she said to herself. “ Now she’s got 
on to plays, I shall hear all about Lady Ilacbelh, and nobody 
knows what else ! ” 

But Mrs. Kedmond’s solicitude took a new channel when 
the girl brought in the tea and eggs. 

“ How’s your head this morning, Emma ? ” she asked. 

The heav}’^, sallow-skinned young woman passed the back 
of her hand over her dull eyes, and replied that it was still 
“ a-splitting fit to bust,” and attributed her disorder to “ the 
boil.” 

“ It is nothing of the kind,” said Mrs. Redmond, decisively. 
“ The doctor must see you. Tell Denis to get the chaise 
ready for me. I shall want it in an hour. I am sure that 
dreadful girl is sickening for something,” she added to Nessa. 
“ It may be scarlet fever or smallpox. We will go over to 
Lullingford and call upon Dr. Shaw, if you would like the 
drive. I have a perfect horror of illness.” 

Nessa accepted the invitation readily. 

“ I shall be ready in about half an hour,” said Mrs. Red- 
mond, when they rose from the table, “ Have you any letters 
for the post ? ” 

“ Yes ; all these.” 

“ Give them to me, and I will put them in the bag, dear.” 

Then there was some discussion about what they should 
wear, and Nessa ran up to her room to dress. 

As soon as she was out of sight Mrs. Redmond took the 
letters up to her room, where her husband was sitting in 
a dressing-gown, with a bottle of whiskey and a sporting 
paper for refreshment. She laid the letters side by side on 
the table with the flaps upward, soaked a handkerchief, and 
spread it carefully over them. Then she began to dress. Tak- 
ing off the handkerchief ten minutes later, she found that the 
flaps yielded to the insertion of a knife-blade. 

“ Open them and read what she has been writing about,” 
she said in a whisper to her husband. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 31 

Redmond, who had been watching the proceeding in silence, 
obeyed. 

“Does she talk about walking in her sleep?” the woman 
asked. 

“ Oh, yes ; something about it in every one of them.” 

Mrs. Redmond expressed her satisfaction by a nod. “ No 
suspicion that she has been deceived ? ” 

“ Not a word.” 

“ That will all serve as evidence on our side if there should 
be any question. Close the letters carefully, and send them 
to the post when we are gone. I’m going to take her over 
to Dr. Shaw. She must have something to take — a mixture 
of some kind.” 

She was standing beside Redmond, plaiting her hair, as he 
replaced the letters and closed the envelopes. He nodded 
without looking up. 

“It will have to be done to-night for certain,” she contin- 
ued. “ You can settle where she’s to fall from. We shall be 
back about four. You’d better keep out of the way till 
you’re wanted.” 

Redmond’s hands trembled so violently that he had to lay 
down the letter he was trying to enclose. 

Mrs. Redmond turned from him in silence with a contemp- 
tuous jerk of her head. When she looked in the glass to see 
if her hair was all right, she caught a glimpse of him wiping 
the perspiration from his livid face with a handkerchief. 

“ Remember,” she said, going back to him, “there’s no 
shuffling out of this. It’s your only escape from the gaol and 
the workhouse. If you’re not here when the time comes. I’ll 
take the girl away and set the Jawyers to work.” 


CHAPTER YI. 

AT HER MERCY. 

Nessa enjoyed the drive to Lullingford intensely. The 
rapid movement, the fresh air, the beauty of the sky and 
trees, with their undergrowth of golden brake and reddening 
bramble, together with a sense of freedom and nascent iDower 
intoxicated her. Her exuberant gayety and young enthusiasm 
made her the most delightful companion in the world, even 
to Mrs. Redmond, who detested the country, and saw nothing 


32 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


but horrid toadstools and scraggy wild flowers in the colored 
fungus and stray hairbells that drew exclamations of delight 
from the girl. 

Mrs. Kedmond allowed her to take the reins and whip 
while she changed her gloves as they neared the little town. 
That was a supreme joy — a foretaste of that delightful future 
when she would have such an equipage, but with two ponies, 
and all to herself. 

They left the chaise at the hotel, where Mrs. Redmond 
ordered lunch to be prepared, and went through the High 
Street, and here Nessa had a glorious quarter of an hour be- 
fore some drapery and millinery stores. Long ago she had 
successfully rebelled against walking out in procession with 
the young ladies of Eagle House, and obtained the privilege 
of going out with Miss Tinkleton alone, but that was a tame 
affair indeed in comparison with shop-gazing in the company 
of a woman of the world with expensive tastes, like Mrs. Red- 
mond. Poor old Tinkleton’s taste was all for print that 
would wash and stuffs that would turn, and she could look 
at nothing that was not marked a bargain at something three 
farthings, w'hereas Mrs. Redmond had an eye for color and 
effect, and fixed her critical choice upon the most delight- 
fully delicate and ephemeral fabrics with a reckless regard 
to cost. 

She laughed at Nessa’s old-fashioned notions, and the girl, 
only too anxious to learn what was “correct” in this new 
world to which she was born, took the rebuke gratefully, and 
liked her friend all the better for it. Nessa, impulsive, affec- 
tionate, and utterly ignorant of evil, saw nothing in her new 
friend to dislike, and a great Real that struck her inexperi- 
enced mind with admiration. She clung to Mrs. Redmond’s 
plump arm, and in the fulness of her heart could ill conceal 
the warmth of her feelings. Mrs. Redmond was not dull to 
this silent homage ; it was a long time since she had encoun- 
tered any one so fresh and naive and bright. She really liked 
the girl — as much as it was in her nature to like any one — and 
quite regretted her approaching loss. Nevertheless she did 
not for one instant hesitate to ring the bell when they came 
to Dr. Shaw’s house at the bottom of the hill. By that time 
Nessa had entirely forgotten the ostensible object of their 
drive to Lullingford. 

They were shown into the consulting-room. Presently the 
inner door opened, and Dr. Shaw came in — a meagre, elderly 
man, with dark penetrating eyes, deep-sunk under a broad, 
white forehead. He bowed stiffly to Mrs. Redmond, and 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


33 


smiled on Nessa as he took his seat. People smiled on her 
as one does instinctively upon a beautiful child. 

“I’ve come to see you again about that dreadful girl, 
Emma,” said Mrs. Kedmond. 

The doctor inclined his head, and resigned himself to the 
inevitable. Not a week j^^^ssed without a visit from this 
woman upon some imaginary ailment of her own or Emma’s. 
He listened, his eyes resting on the paper-knife he toyed in 
his long fingers, but his thoughts were chiefly occupied 
with Nessa. Who was she? How had she fallen into the 
hands of IVIrs. Kedmond? What was the painted woman 
doing with this fresh, innocent girl? What on earth 
were the girl’s friends about to let her associate with an 
unwholesome woman? He disliked Mrs. Redmond. He 
knew her and her vices, and wondered how any one 
else could fail to see her physical and moral unhealthiness 
through the palpable mask of paint and dye and society 
manners. 

“It’s an ordinary bilious attack — nothing more,” he said, 
looking up, his eyes resting first on Nessa, as Mrs. Redmond 
concluded her account of Emma’s symptoms. 

“ I believe it is the beginning of fever. I must beg you to 
come and see her. If it is anything catching I must send her 
away to her friends at once.” 

“ I am very much occupied. However, if you insist, I will 
do my best to call in the course of the day.” 

“ Oh, thanks, awfully — thanks ! And now, doctor, I wish 
you to prescribe for this young lady,” Mrs. Redmond said, 
laying her hand on Nessa’s arm. 

*Dr. Shaw looked sharply at the girl, who seemed no less 
astonished than himself by this demand. He smiled as 
Nessa’s surprise gave way to uncontrollable mirth. 

“ There’s nothing whatever to laugh at,” said IVIi-s. Red- 
mond. “ It is not natural, and it is certainly dangerous for 
a young girl to walk in her sleep.” 

The doctor assented to this, and listened with serious at- 
tention to Mrs. Redmond’s account of the affair, while Nessa 
sat with bent head, amused and vexed by turns. It was so 
ridiculous to make a fuss about such a trifle. She raised her 
head, and met the doctor’s eyes, blushing as if she had com- 
mitted a fault when he spoke to her. 

“You do not look a likely subject for nervous disorders of 
this kind,” he said, kindly. 

“ I am sure I have never misbehaved myself before — in that 
way,” she replied, with a laugh. 

3 


34 : 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“You have never been so violently excited as you were 
yesterday and the day before,” suggested Mrs. Kedmond. 

Nessa admitted that this was true. 

“ Of course,” said Dr. Shaw, “ great and unusual mental 
excitement might account for a case of this kind, but I really 
see no cause for serious alarm. There is no reason to fear a 
repetition of the attack, especially if the excitement abates.” 

“ But the excitement may not abate — the attack may be 
repeated,” insisted Mrs. Redmond. 

“ Then you had better have some one to sleep in the same 
room for a few nights.” 

“/couldn’t. I should never be able to close my eyes for 
fear of something happening. And you cannot expect me to 
put a servant in the room who is probably sickening for some 
horrid infectious complaint. Surely 3’ou can give something 
to produce sleep.” 

The doctor reflected a moment. What was he to do with 
this obstinate fool of a woman ? It was impossible to con- 
vince her that Nessa would be better without the use of 
dmgs. If he refused to administer anything, he was per- 
fectly sure that she would go to the chemist and procure 
some poisonous stutf, such as she herself was in the ibabit of 
taking — a concoction strong enough to half kill a young girl 
unaccustomed to the use of narcotics. The best way was to 
comply with the request, and practise a harmless decei)tion. 
With this conclusion he rose, saying that possibly a mild sed- 
ative might have a good effect, and left the ladies for a few 
minutes.” 

“It will do you no harm to take this before going to bed,” 
he said, putting a bottle wrapped in white paper into Nessa’s 
hand. 

That was true enough ; the bottle contained nolhing but 
pure water tinctured with cochineal and disguised with 
peppermint. 

Mrs. Redmond W'ent away triumphant. But she was not 
simple enough to believe that she had overcome the doctor’s 
scruples. When they returned to the Towers, and she w'as 
alone in her I’oom, she took the bottle from her sealskin bag, 
in which she had put it “for safety,” removed the paper 
carefull}', and poured away the pink liquid. She refilled the 
bottle from one of her own. The efficacy of that mixture in 
producing sleep she knew. 

“Dr. Shaw is responsible for whatever happens now,” she 
said to herself, as she wrapped the bottle in the paper she 
had taken it from. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


6iy 


They dined alone. Nessa tasted champagne for the first 
time and liked it. It looked so pretty in the delicate glass 
held up to the light, with the string of bubbles rising from 
the bottom, and it was quite as nice to the taste as lemonade 
— nicer, in fact. She agreed with Mrs. Redmond that it was 
the only thing a lady ought to drink at dinner, and resolved 
that when the time came sbe would fill her cellars with Cli- 
quot and the Boy and Moet, and all the wines her friend 
talked about so glibl}’-, and learn the difference between them. 
They lingered over the dessert, Nessa listening with avidity to 
Mrs. Redmond’s airy gossip about London, and that wonder- 
ful society in which lords and dukes seemed to be as plentiful 
as heart could desire. Oh, what a contrast between this life 
of delicious trifling and the ponderous routine of her late 
existence, when one scuttled away from the table the moment 
a meal was finished, with nothing better than instructive 
recreation to look forward to ! The girl thought that a but- 
terfly must feel such rich delight as hers in flitting aimlessly 
among bright flowers after its painful experience as a cater- 
pillar. 

It was getting dusk when IVIrs. Redmond rose from her 
chair and changed the subject. It was clear that Dr. Shaw 
would not come now. Emma had better go to bed ; she was 
certainly sickening for something, and there was nothing else 
for her to do. She went into the kitchen and sent the heavy 
girl, nothing loath, to her room. Upstairs, Mrs. Redmond 
found her husband, with a face the color of lead, pacing the 
bedroom. 

“Are you ready?” she asked in a low tone, as she took up 
the sealskin bag. 

He nodded in silence ; and then, overcoming the difficulty 
of speaking, he faltered. “For God’s sake be quick ! This 
is hell ! ” 

She scanned the quaking coward from head to foot, and, 
seeing his irresolution, thought it advisable on quitting the 
room to turn the key upon him. 

Downstairs she found Nessa sitting in the gloaming by the 
open window, and for the first time that day looking grave. 
Her mind seemed to have taken on the subdued tone of the 
trees and sky. Night was failing upon her. 

Mrs. Redmond sat down in the chair opposite, the bag in 
her lap. 

“Why, how awfully solemn you look !” she exclaimed. 

“I have been thinking,” said Nessa ; and then, in a tone of 
interrogation, she added, “Mr. Redmond has not come home?” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


SC> 


“ No ; surely that has nothing to do with your gravity.” 

“ Yes, it has. I want to see him. I have something to 
say.” 

Mrs. Redmond laughed. 

“ Of course you have, my dear ; so have I, he's perfectly 
aware of that, and keeps out of our way in consequence.” 

“ But I want to apologize to him,” said Nessa, quietly. 

“Apologize !” exclaimed Mrs. Redmond, with superb dis- 
dain. “ / never apologized to any one in all my life ! ” 

“Not when you had to acknowledge yourself in the 
wrong?” 

“ I never did have to acknowledge mvself in the wrong, my 
dear.” 

“ How nice ! ” said Nessa, naively, with a sigh. “ I’m 
always doing wrong, and finding it out just when it’s too late 
to be undone.” 

“I should like to know what wrong you’ve done my 
precious husband?” 

“I — I — I have been thinking that I was very rude to him 
yesterday.” 

“Rude! Well, when you find a man robbing 3’ou ” 

“But I’m not sure that he has robbed me. It’s just like 
me to jump at a conclusion. I have no right to demand an 
account until I am twenty-one, and then he may be prepared 
to render it.” 

“If I tell you that he has spent every penny of the money 
entrusted to him for your maintenance ; that he is hopelessly 
in debt ; and is cutting down the timber to pny his current 
expenses ; what then ? ” 

“Then I am very sorry for him. He must have been very 
unfortunate to lose the money — he must have made some 
great mistake. I have made so many that I should be the 
last to think unkindly of him on that account.” 

Mrs. Redmond said nothing ; but she felt disappointed in 
Nessa, having given her credit for more spirit. 

“That’s why I wanted to see him,” the girl continued, in 
the same reflective tone. “I am so happy here that I should 
like to be at peace with every one. Surely we could live ami- 
cably together if we tried. After all, a few thousand pounds 
is no great loss. And a few trees out of all those will never 
be missed. Perhaps they ought to be thinned out. I shall 
still have more trees and more money than ever I shall know 
what to do with. And then, if I could help him to recover 
his losses I should like to, for I am sure that he W'ould not 
wilfully do me any harm. I have wu’onged him. Oh, you 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. ;J7 

don’t know what dreadful things I thought he might be 
guilty of doing — the most horrible wickedness.” 

“ And pray what reason have you to change your opinion ! ” 

“ Why, surely a man who is afraid to face a school-girl can- 
not be capable of such desperate designs? ” 

Mrs. Redmond made no response, but sat nursing her 
knee, and eying, sidelong, the girl who had fallen into a 
reverie. 

She hesitated about taking this final step. She was not 
sure of her husband. He might betray himself in some 
paroxysm of remorse. Cowards are never to be trusted. If 
he got the inheritance he would assuredly try to do her out 
of her fair share in the plunder. One thing was on her side : 
she could hold him pretty well under her thumb by threats 
of denunciation. On the other hand, this young girl was a 
perfect fool in worldly matters, wdth a sentimental side to 
her character that might be worked on to advantage. With 
careful management a girl like that could be bled of half her 
fortune. Might it not be better to let her live ? Unfortu- 
nately she would not have her fortune for three years, and in 
that time the ductile girl might develop into a particularly 
unmanageable woman — especially if she married. Added to 
that, they might fall out. They got on very w^ell together 
just now ; but Mrs. Redmond never could put up with 
women and their ways for long together. And if there 
should arise any cause for jealousy, quarrel they would to a 
certainty, and then good-by to any hope of gain from Nessa. 
No ; that would not do. 

With this reflection Mrs. Redmond pressed the fastening 
of her bag. It opened with a snap that aroused Nessa from 
her meditations. 

“ My dear, we were both going to sleep, I do believe,” 
said Mrs. Redmond. “Get a glass. Here’s the mixture Dr. 
Shaw told you to take.” 

It had grown so dark that they had to light the lamp to 
find a clean glass. Mr.s. Redmond poured out the drug, 
Nessa holding the glass, laughing and protesting. When 
the bottle was emptied, Nessa, with a wry face, lifted the 
glass to her lips, and drained off the sirup. 

“But it’s too early to go to bed yet,” she said, setting 
down the empty glass. 

“ Oh, yes. We will sit down and have a good long chat.” 

They sat down ; but soon Nessa found her friend’s light 
gossip growing unaccountably inaudible, while an insur- 
mountable dro^ysiness crept lupoi} her senses. Mrs. Red- 


38 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


monel watched her keenly, and chatted on until the girl’s lids 
dropped. 

“ You had better go up to your room, dear.” 

Nessa roused herself with an effort, and in a state of stupor 
submitted to be guided up-stairs. When they were in the 
little bedroom she sat down on the bed, and, with a last effort 
of consciousness, threw her arms about her friend’s neck and 
kissed her. Mrs. Eedmond did not consider it necessary to 
return the kiss, for Nessa was already asleep and the next 
moment slipped sidelong heavily upon the bed. She stood 
over her in the dim light for some minutes. Then she raised 
the sleeping girl’s arm and let it drop. It fell inert. She 
shook her. Nessa made no sign of consciousness. 

Mrs. Redmond went down-stairs and unlocked the door of 
her room. Her husband stood against the window — his figure 
just visible in silhouette against the gray light. 

Mrs. Redmond scratched a vesta and lit a candle. 

“Come on,” she said, beckoning him from the door. 

He followed her automatically up the stairs. 


CHAPTER VH. 

AT THEIR MERCY. 

Nessa lay where she had sunk, her cheek pressing the pil- 
low, her head thrown backward toward the wall. She breathed 
inaudibly ; her bosom rose and fell with gentle regularit}". 
Mrs. Redmond brought the light close to her eyes ; the lids, 
slightly parted, showed the blank, white body of the upturned 
ball under the long, curved fringe of the lashes, but they made 
no movement. 

She turned to her husband, who stood at the foot of the 
bed craning his neck to watch the experiment with the ear- 
nestness of a surgeon following the course of an operation. 
He nodded satisfaction. She called Nessa by her name, 
raised her into a sitting posture, and let her fall back again 
upon the pillow, without making any visible effect upon the 
sleeper’s senses. 

“ Come on ! Do your work ! ” said Mrs. Redmond. 

He drew back to the door, beckoning her. 

“Where’s the girl?” he asked in a whisper when she 
joined him. 

“In her bedroom and asleep this last half hour.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


30 


“I shan’t do it on the parapet. I looked at it this morn- 
ing. It isn’t natural that she should get out of the window.” 

“ Where shall you put her then ? ” 

He pointed down the corridor. 

“ Is it all ready ? ” 

“ Give me the light.” 

He took the candle, and she followed him down the corri- 
dor, away from the staircase, and toward the unoccupied side 
of the house. Beyond Nessa’s room the wainscoted walls were 
gray with the dust of years. Cobwebs tapestried the angles 
of the unused doors, and hung in ragged festoons from the 
low ceiling. At the further end there were signs of humid- 
ity : the boards yielded to the j^ressure of the foot ; there was 
a growth of crimped, yellow fungus in the old moulding of 
the lower wainscot panels. The old door that closed the cor- 
ridor was green in one corner where the rats had gnawed the 
rotten wood away and given passage to the damp air ; a pris- 
matic slime marked the course taken by a slug ; the great 
hinges, the rivet heads, the heavy bolt, and hand ring were 
crusted with red rust. 

They stopped. Mrs. Redmond drew her skirts together 
and glanced to the right and left in horror. She had courage 
enough for murder, but went in mortal dread of a spider ! 

Redmond pulled the ring, and the door, grating hoarsely 
on its hinges, swung back against the wall, showing a space 
of impenetrable darkness beyond. He dropped on his knees 
and thrust out the hand that held the light, the candle flar- 
ing and guttering in the current of cold air. 

Mrs. Redmond stepped boldly to the door-sill and looked 
in. She now distinguished brickwork on the opposite side, 
and knew that this must be the tower of which she had heard. 
It had once been floored, but the roof had fallen in and broken 
away the rotten planks, leaving nothing but a couple of 
mouldering crossbeams and a narrow ledge of crumbling 
woodwork just beyond the sill. 

“What is down there?” asked Mrs. Redmond. “Is it 
deep enough ? ” 

Redmond took a brick from the debris that lay on the ledge 
and dropped it. One might have counted twenty before the 
hollow sound that followed reached their ears. 

“ That will do ! ” said the woman. 

They left the door open and returned to Nessa’s room. 
There Mrs. Redmond took the light and nodded to her hus- 
band to do his work. For a moment he hesitated looking 
down on the sleeping girl and rubbing one clammy hand 


40 


BhVrWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


against tho other, his mustache twitching with the convulsive 
movement of his lips ; then, with the energy of desperation, 
he suddenly caught hold of her and lifted her upon his 
shoulders. Now that he had overcome his moral weakness 
his physical vigor was capable of any strain. He was like 
those beasts of prej", also for the most part cowards, who lose 
all sense of fear from the moment they are nerved to make 
the attack. 

He carried Nessa down the corridor quickly, as if she had 
been a mere infant. When his wife came up with the flicker- 
ing light he laid the supine girl down on the edge of the 
door-sill. That was not the easiest thing to do ; it required 
dexterity and strength of no ordinary kind. The sill was not 
long enough to lay her out at full length ; her shoulders had 
to be raised and j^laced at the edge of the w*all. Without a 
firm grip the flaccid body would have slipped from his hands ; 
a clumsy movement w’ould have broken away the rotten wood 
on wliich she rested. 

“That wall do,” said he, when he had disposed of her to his 
satisfaction. “The slightest movement will finish her. If 
she only turns her head she must topple over.” 

He was still kneeling with his hand on Nessa’s shoulder. 
Mrs. Eedmond bent down. 

“If a touch will do it, why not push her down and be done 
wath it ? ” she asked. 

He knelt there meditating on this suggestion for a moment 
in silence ; then rising and turning his cunning eyes on his 
wife, he said : 

“ You do it.” 

“ Not I,” she replied ; “ I’ve done my share. I’m not go- 
ing to have a murder to answer for.” 

“ Nor I neither,” said he, taking the light roughly from her 
hand. 

He looked to Nessa’s position again, and then carefully 
closed the door upon her and shot the bolt. They stood 
there in silence, listening for the sounds that must come — 
a brush against the door, the rattle of rubbish falling dowai 
the pit, the scream of terror, the crashing of rotten woodwork, 
and then that dull mutfled sound welling up from below to 
tell that Nessa was killed. 

“What are we waiting here for?” asked Mrs. Eedmond 
with quick impatience, seized with a sudden panic she could 
not account for. “ She is not likely to move of her owai ac- 
cord for hours.” 

They went back through the passage — he first ; hastening 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


41 


to get away from the place and escape the awful sounds their 
ears were straining to catch. The panic was upon them both 
now. Near Nessa’s empty room he stopped suddenly, catch- 
ing his breath with, a rattle in his parched throat. 

“What?” ejaculated she, clutching his arm. 

It was a trifle — nothing. His foot had struck against the 
shoe that had fallen from Nessa’s foot as he carried her along. 
Yet this little thing had crisped the hair on his head and par- 
alyzed him for the moment. 

His wife pushed angrily past him as the light fell on the 
shoe. He hurried after her, sick with the dread of being 
there alone. They stopped on the landing below, holding 
their breath to listen. They heard nothing but the rushing 
of the blood in their ears. They were under a terrible fasci- 
nation, possessed by an irresistible anxiety to catch the sounds 
that in anticipation terrified them. 

They entered an adjoining room, treading noiselessly^ as if 
a sleeper were there whom they feared to wake. He set down 
the light upon the table. There was a bottle of whiskey 
there, but he could not find the force to fill the tumbler that 
stood beside it. She, less irresolute, poured some water into 
the basin and sponged her face, attributing her weakness and 
sense of suflfocation to the closeness of the night. 

She stopped in drying her hands as she caught sight of her 
husband staring with outstretched neck toward the door. 
He stood in shadow there, but she could see his white face 
turned toward the stairs. After waiting a minute, motion- 
less, she crossed the room hastily, the towel in her hand, and 
coming to his side, said, in a whisper : 

“Is it over ? ” 

He shook his head without moving from his position. 

“ Go out or come in, for God’s sake ! ” she muttered. 
“ You’d frighten the devil ! ” 

She returned to the table, and half filled the tumbler with 
spirits. When she had drunk she pushed the glass across to 
Redmond, who had come back from the door ; but he took no 
notice of it, having his face still turned toward the door. 

“ Drink ! ” she said, imperatively 

He turned eagerly, took up the glass in his trembling fin- 
gers, and emptied it ; then, seating himself, he turned his 
face again to the dark space outside the room. 

It was no good fighting against that fascination. Her eyes 
took the same direction as his, her ears straining for the last 
despairing cry of that voice which had brightened the day 
with laughter and lively chat. Now that the color was washed 


42 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


from her face, she looked scarcely less livitl than her husband 
in the feeble light of the candle that stood on the table be- 
tween them. Every moment added to the terror of their 
situation, and brought fresh horror to their wild imagination. 

Supposing the fall should not kill her, he thought — sup- 
posing from the bottom of the tower she should cry in agouy 
for help ? She could not be left there to die. The servant 
girl, when she got up in the morning, would hear her. 
Should he have to kill her outright ? How? Must he lower 
a light to see where she lay, and then loosen a beam, to throw 
it down to crush her ? He recollected torturing a cat in Lis 
boyhood. The thing would not die. It fastened its teeth 
and claws on the iron bar he thrust at it. He dared not put 
his heel on it ; he dared not leave it, for fear it should drag 
its broken body into the light and betray him. Supposing he 
failed to kill Nessafrom above — if her cries brought help, and 
she was brought up, mangled and torn, to convict him with 
her last breath ? 

The sweat dropped from his face. The suspense was inter- 
minable. Would the end never come? His wife had said 
that of her own accord Nessa would not move for hours ; but 
surely hours had passed since then. Yet that could not be ; 
the candle his wife had lit was not yet burned an inch. It 
might burn to the socket before their torture was over. 

And then when the light was out, when the cry came, what 
was to be done ? Who was to put the door open that it 
might appear Nessa had opened it and fallen in her sleep ? 
How was the night to be passed before they could go through 
the scene laid down by his wife of pretending to miss Nessa : 
of sending the girl to inquire if she felt unwell : of making a 
search, and facing the world when the broken body was found 
and brought to light ? 

These were consequences that must be faced if all went as 
they expected ; but if some unanticipated difficulty arose — if 
she should not be killed outright ! Then his frenzied imagi- 
nation conjured np new horrors. 

Suddenly he started, and turned to his wdfe with gaping 
mouth. Her lip, too, had fallen. They had both heard it — 
a sound ; but not that they listened for. Somebody was 
moving downstairs. 

A step in the hall ! Silence ! Another step ! Silence ! 
Husband and wife staring at each other aghast, without re- 
alizing the cause of their terror. A sharp rap, tap, tap ! 
Somebody must be knocking at the hall-door with a stick. 

It occurred to Mrs. Redmond that the hall-door had been 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


43 


left open to admit air ; it was obvious some one had come 
into the house. But she still sat, spellbound with a nameless 
fear. Another interval of silence brief in itself, yet painfully 
protracted to the two conscience-stricken wretches ; then the 
handle of a door turned. 

“ You must go down and see who it is,” Mrs. Redmond said. 

Her husband shrank back, shaking his head. She snatched 
up the light, and went out of the room. He waited till the 
room was in darkness, listening for a sound from below and 
for that sound from above ; and then, unable to endure the 
suspense, and in craven fear of the obscurity, he crept after 
his wife. Better be down there than be found quivering up 
here, if that cry came, and this visitor should rush up to dis- 
cover the cause. 

It was Dr. Shaw. He had walked into the living room, see- 
ing a light there. His first words when he saw Mrs. Red- 
mond were : 

“ Good gracious, madam ! what is the matter ? ” 

He had never before seen her without color on her face. 
But even color w^ould not have disguised her agitation from 
his penetrating eyes. 

She made some excuse about the w’eather and her nerves, 
with as much self-composure as she could assume. 

Just then Redmond, reassured by her tone of voice, ven- 
tured into the room. The two ghastly faces presented a curi- 
ous spectacle to the student of physiognomy, and excited odd 
speculations. 

“ The weather seems to have affected you also, Mr. Red- 
mond,” said the doctor, taking his limp, wet hand. 

Redmond faltered a perfectly unintelligible answer. 

“ If they had been doing a murder, they couldn’t look 
more guilty,” said the doctor to himself, dropping Redmond’s 
hand with inward disgust, and seating himself. 

“ We didn’t hope to see you so late,” said Mrs. Redmond, 
with an effort. 

“ It is late,” assented Dr. Shaw, looking at his watch. 
“ Half-past nine.” 

Only half-past nine ! It should have been past midnight 
by the feelings of the woman and her husband. 

“ My round has been long ; I was kept in the village,” the 
doctor continued. “ How is the girl ? ” 

“ I have sent her to bed,” Mrs. Redmond answered, recol- 
lecting Emma for the first time. “ I think I frightened my- 
self for nothing. It is only a bilious attack, and I am sorry I 
troubled you to come out of your way, doctor.” 


44 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Dr. Shaw accepted the apology with a bend of the head. 

“ And my other patient — the somnambulist ? ” Tbe doctor 
addressed the woman, but his eye was on the man, who, with 
his head turned a little on one side, seemed to be listening, 
and with an intense concentration of liis faculties that totally 
alienated his mind from other considerations. The doctor 
asked himself what on earth the man had been doing, with a 
perfect certainty that .he was in mortal dread of discovery. 

“ She too has gone to lie down,” said Mrs. Kedmoiid, in 
reply to the doctor’s question. “ Indeed I left her in her 
room sound asleep, thanks to your mixture.” 

If she had been mistress of herself she would never have 
said that. But her mind was not proof against the terrible 
strain put upon it. It was only too clear that the doctor’s 
suspicion was aroused by the abject terror and mental col- 
lapse of her husband. She repented her words the moment 
they were spoken. 

“My mixture!” he exclaimed, turning his eyes shaiq^ly 
upon her. 

His quick glance, following a movement of her hand, fell 
on the bottle that stood on the lamp with a wine glass beside 
it. There was a milky sediment at the bottom of both ; if 
any color had been precipitated from the mixture he gave it 
should have been pink. 

“ Yes, your mixture, doctor,” she said, putting her elbow 
on the table and trying to fix his eye with hers. 

He saw what she W’as about to do — she intended by a 
backward movement of her arm to sweep bottle and glass 
from the table as if by accident. Without a moment’s hesi- 
tation he put out his hand and took the bottle. 

“ You have been tampering with this,” he said, putting the 
bottle to his nose. 

“What do you mean. Dr. Shaw?” she asked, rising with 
an air of indignation. 

“I mean what I say. You have been tampering with the 
mixture I gave. This bottle contained nothing but pep7:>er- 
mint and water this morning. There is chloral in it now, 
and in this also,” he added, taking up the glass. “ Are you 
aware that in certain circumstances it is felony to administer 
a drug of this kind ? ” 

“ How do you know it has been administered? ” 

“ By this bottle. There would have been no necessity to 
refill it if the chloral had been taken voluntarily. Mr. Red- 
mond,” he said, turning round sharply, “ I address myself to 
you. I must see the young lady at once : where is she ? ” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


45 


Redmond was standing as if petrified, with his livid face 
toward the half-opened door. The doctor’s address made 
not the slightest impression on him. Glancing at Mrs. Red- 
mond, he found her face also blank with some unaccountable 
dismay. What was the matter with them both, he asked him- 
self. There was a sound outside beyond the hall at the foot 
of the tower ; that was what riveted them. Was it all over ? 
Had Nessa fallen without a cry? Or was this indefinable 
sound but preparatory to those that must proclaim their 
crime intelligibly — the fall of debris caused by a movement 
above, to be followed by the crash and ringing scream they 
had been waiting to hear with such long horror ? 

The doctor, who had fastened his cob by the rein to a loose 
ring in the gatehouse, might have heard the movement, but 
certainly he could not have imagined that the speechless con- 
sternation of this man and woman was due to such a trifle. 
Their attitude was inexplicable to him. One thing, however, 
was clear : he must look after the poor girl that Mrs. Red- 
mond in perverse stupidity had been dosing. He made a 
movement toward the door. 

Dread of discovery brought Redmond in a moment to his 
senses. 

“ Where are you going ? ” he asked, with the energy of 
desperation. 

“J am going to find theyounglady your wife has drugged.” 

“You cannot see her. I forbid you to go to her.” 

“ But I insist upon seeing her. Do you know that a dose 
of this stuff is enough to paralyze a feeble heart and cause 
death?” 

He would have passed by, but Redmond clutched his arm 
and held him back, crying, incoherently : 

“ You shall not go up. This is my house. I forbid you. 
I’m a dangerous man. I’ll kill you ; by God, I’ll kill you if 
you attempt it ! ” 

The doctor looked at him keenly. It was clear enough he 
meant what he said ; there was murder in his eyes, and he 
was a powerful man. 

“Very good,” said he disengaging his arm. “I shall not 
put your threat to the test. I have done all that professional 
duty requires, but I warn you that if anything happens to that 
young lady you will have to answer for neglecting my warn- 
ing ; and you,” he added, turning to Mrs. Redmond, and 
showing the bottle he held in his hand, “ for this ! ” 

He passed alone through the hall and out through the door 
under the gatehouse. But he turned his back on the place 


46 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


with an, uneas}" conscience — an assertive conviction that some- 
thing more than professional duty called lor his interference 
ill behalf of Nessa. He felt that he was a coward to leave 
her thus at the mercy of the man and woman whose murder- 
ous character was stamped .upon their faces. Turning in his 
saddle as his horse walked noiselessly over the grass-grown 
drive, he saw the house standing in a sombre mass, the towers 
and gables sharply defined against the light of the moon 
rising beyond. His flesh crept with the suspicion, almost 
amounting to certainty, that at this very moment that young 
girl whose vivacity and brightness had charmed him in the 
morning, was being murdered. And just then a faint sound 
reached his ear ; it might have been a night-bird’s cry or the 
muffled shriek for help of a girl’s voice. He stopped his 
horse involuntarily and listened. The cry was not repeated, 
nor did the rustling of a leaf break the dead silence ; but he 
thought he descried a man’s figure crossing the dark lawn 
stealthily toward him. Craven fear shook him. 

“ It was fancy,” he said to himself, and digging his heels 
into the cob’s side he escaped. 


CHAPTER Vm. 

SAVED. 


» 


But it was not fancy ; the long-expected sounds had come 
— a despairing ciy, an audible fall within the empty tower. 
Prepared as they were, Redmond and his wife heard it with 
convulsive start and a sudden check in their breathing ; their 
eyes met in a glance of mutual intelligence. But a minute 
before they had heard the doctor unfastening the rein of his 
horse ; he might be now within hearing. If he were there he 
must be silenced to save them from conviction by his evi- 
dence. Spurred to desperation by the sense of danger, Red- 
mond needed no prompting from his wife. He slipped into 
the hall, and taking down his gun from the rack made his 
way rapidl}^ to the front of the house. The doctor had pulled 
up, and stood out clear enough beyond the shadow of the 
building. He was within range, but Redmond hesitated to 
fire, doubting if he could kill at that distance. Clearly he 
had heard the cry ; it would be fatal to let him escape with a 
wound. Redmond made a couple of quick, cautious steps 
forward, crouching down, and trusting to the deep shadow of 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


47 


the house to avoid discovery. Suddenly the horse started, 
and the next minute the doctor was lost to sight in the dark- 
ness of the avenue. What was to be done now V Two things 
were obvious : the doctor had heard Nessa’s cr}’, and seen 
him. It was hardly less certain that he had gone oil at a gal- 
lop to raise the alarm and procure assistance. 

To go back to the house, and be taken there like a rat in a 
trap, was madness. With speed he might get to Lullingford 
in time to catch the last train ; that would enable him to get 
on to Liverpool, where the morning papers would tell him 
whether the murder had been discovered. From Liverpool 
he could get away in the first outward-bound vessel, and save 
his neck. Without another thought he threw down his gun 
and bolted. 

Meanwhile, what had happened to Nessa? A strange 
singing and throbbing in her ears accompanied the first re- 
turn of consciousness, and with that a bewildering inability 
to remember anything, and to realize her present position. 
It seemed to her that she was revolving with prodigious 
velocity in some piece of machinery ; that in some way ac- 
counted for the lines and flashes of colored light that passed 
before her eyes, the feeling of sickness and giddiness, the 
burning and throbbing in her ears, the confusion of ideas, 
and the incapacity to distinguish any object save patches and 
streaks of color. 

Gradually the whirling sensation slackened. The light 
took the form of globes floating upward, and faded away, 
leaving her in complete darkness as the motion came to an 
end and the feeling of giddiness passed off. 

Then she became conscious that her eyes were closed, and 
that a sharp projection was pressing the back of her head. 
With the effort to open her eyes and move her head, a new 
phenomenon became evident : her will was powerless to in- 
fluence a muscle of her body. She strove in vain to raise her 
hand, to stir her foot. It was as if she had been plunged 
into a bath of liquid plaster and it had hardened. 

And now reviving recollection of the past suggested the 
idea that the opiate she took had thrown her into a trance, 
and she had been buried as dead. Her reasoning faculty 
was sufficiently awake to explain the inability to move by the 
equal pressure on her muscles of the surrounding earth. In 
imagination she felt the cold wet clay pressing upon her ; the 
wonder to her was that she felt no suffocation, and breathed 
freely. But the sense of impotency was horrible. Th^j 
futile endeavor to remove her head from the projection wat 


48 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


maddening. She knew that she must lose her reason if this 
continued — like those martyrs she had read about, who died 
raving mad from the continued dropping of water ujpon their 
lips. If she had known that sure death \vould have resulted 
from a movement, she would have moved to overcome that 
awful cramp that seemed to frenzy every tissue and fibre of 
her body. Yet she knew that the cramp w^as imaginary, and 
that relief from this purgatory was to be obtained by reason 
and calmness. But reason only added to her horror. 

She argued that if she could breathe she could surely ciy out, 
and so, perhaps, make it known to those outside that she was 
there buried alive. She tried with every effort of her will to 
scream, and her breath escaped from her lips with scarcely an 
audible sound. Why was this ? She felt the sweat trick- 
ling down her cheek ; that could not be if her face were 
covered ; and if her mouth was not imbedded in clay, why 
should her voice fail to produce a sound? 

She lay there exhausted with her eftbrt, on the border of 
insanity, her power of reasoning dissipated in a delirious 
tumult of recollections and fancies ; and then, in frantic des- 
peration, she strove again to open her eyes. The lid rose 
feebly, the ball of the eye rolled down, and she saw — what ? 
a spark of light. 

She kept her eye fixed with the strenuous energy of de- 
spair, too overjoyed at the victory she had won to care or 
think what the rich gold spark was that she saw. 

After awhile she determined that it must be a star in the 
heavens, and that the black silhouette standing out against 
the lighter background must be foliage. She strained her 
eyes, and reasoned until she came to perceive that the foliage 
was ivy, and that she must be lying in the open air. But 
where, where? 

By another fierce effort she moved one foot. It slipped 
from its resting-place on the sill, and fell down till it struck 
heavily against one of the rotten joists. It was all a mystery 
to her ; but it was with ecstasy of delight she found that her 
limbs were free, and that she was recovering the use of her 
will — was not buried there ! Next she concentrated her 
energy into a movement of the hand, on the same side as the 
foot which she had released. That fell down too, her arm drop- 
ping from the shoulder as if it were lead. Her strength was 
just sufficient to enable her to pass her fingers feebly along 
the bricks against which it rested. She felt that there was 
damp moss there. 

Suddenly there came into her mind something like an ap- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


49 


proximation to the truth. By some means she had come in 
her sleep to lie down there, and it seemed to her that this 
must be the parapet that she had observed running under 
her window. With that conviction came a consciousness of 
her perilous position, and she concluded that her foot and 
arm must be hanging over the side of the parapet. 

Great God ! what mercy had been shown her ! But for 
this paralysis that bound her limbs she would have fallen into 
the court-yard and been crushed to death. If she had awoke 
in the ordinary way, and sprung up, nothing in the w^orld 
could have saved her. 

Now all her endeavor was to draw back her arm and foot. 
Under the continued strain her muscles were awaking to 
their duty. She lifted her hand up with comparatively little 
difficulty ; but her foot was still numb and weak. Summon- 
ing all her faculties to the effort, she pushed with the 
lower foot to get herself further from the treacherous 
edge. She thought she was succeeding as her leg strnight- 
ened out ; but a crumbling, grating sound proved soon 
enough that it was the support that moved — not she. With 
a sudden crash, it slid away, and fell grinding against the 
wall down, till it struck the bottom far below with a dull 
smash. 

As her foot fell, it seemed to her that the weight must 
drag her down, and terror gave sound to her voice. She 
screamed aloud, at the same time straining to maintain that 
rigidity which she had previously striven to overcome. She 
knew that she owed her escape to this. It was obvious that 
she lay upon a narrow and treacherous ledge between two 
blocks of masonry, and that while she could keep tightly 
wedged there, and perfectly still, she was safe. All depended 
upon her holding her foot firmly against one side and her 
shoulders against the other. 

But dread, that gave her strength at first, robbed her of it 
presently, as she thought of what must happen if she gave 
wa}'. Her heart fluttered with the recollection of that dull, 
sickening crash she had heard, and might hear again when 
she fell. Her knee gave way, and trembled under the forced 
tension. She dared not cry for help ; yet how could help 
come if she could not make her position known ? 

A cold faintness, the beginning of unconsciousness, crept 
upon her as she lay there panting, with wild terrors whirling 
through her brain and sapping her self-control. Oh, nothing 
could save her ! That thought brought again a faint, despair- 
ing cry from her quivering lips. 

4 


50 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 

What was that? A footstep near her? A sound like a 
bolt bein" drawn in its rusty holdfast ? 

“ Oh, God, give me strength for another moment ! ” she 
prayed. 

And then, as the door swung back, she rolled heavily over 
at Mrs. Kedmond’s feet and lay there so still that the woman 
believed that the fright had killed her. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE GOOSE WITH THE GOLDEN EGGS. 

Mrs. Redmond had followed her husband to the door, and 
from the threshold seen the doctor disappear in the distance, 
and Redmond, after a moment of indecision, drop his gun, 
and make hastily for the path that cut through the wood. 
Had it been his intention by taking the short path to inter- 
cept the doctor and kill him in the road, he would not liave 
left his gun behind. No : she knew the man’s character too 
well to doubt that his only object was to save himself, leaving 
her to face the consequences of discovery. 

Cursing him, and herself for having trusted such a treach- 
erous and cowardly ally, she returned mechanically to her room 
with the perception that she also must fly. The doctor’s 
evidence and her husband’s flight must damn her inevitably. 
It was useless now to repent the course she had taken ; she 
must pack, and save herself while Nessa’s fate was yet un- 
known. 

At her door she stopped with a gasp of joy, hearing Nessa’s 
second cry. It came from above, she was sure. Snatching 
the light from her table she flew to the rescue. And surely 
had she been a good woman she could not have been more 
fervently grateful when she discovered that the girl had es- 
caped destruction. 

With eager haste she sought restoratives ; and when at 
length Nessa opened her eyes, she caught her in her arms, 
and kissed her with genuine emotion ; but an emotion which 
sprang from purely selfish considerations. 

“ My dear, dear Nessa — alive and safe — you sweet, sweet 
girl,” she exclaimed between her kisses. 

“Where am I?” asked Nessa, bewildered by these caresses, 
by the dim perceptions of awaking consciousness. 

“Where are you?” echoed Mrs. Redmond, fiercely. 
“Look!” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


51 


And raising the candle from the floor, she held it in the 
doorway over the black pit, where it flared and fluttered in 
the current of air. 

Nessa, resting against Mrs. Kedmond’s breast as she knelt 
beside her, looking round in wonder — at the floor, the walls, 
the ceiling, the open door, and the black void beyond ; then 
suddenly recollecting past events, she shrunk closer to Mrs. 
Kedmond, with a cry of horror, and looking aghast at the 
opening beyond the sill. 

The next moment she burst out laughing, and by an imper- 
ceptible transition fell to crying and sobbing, until, exhausted 
with the outburst of emotion, her head dropped back on Mrs. 
Kedmond’s arm, her eyelids dropped heavily, and her breath 
faded away in a long, fluttering sigh. Either she had fainted 
again, or was falling asleep. 

“Wake! wake, dear Nessa! for Heaven’s sake wake!” 
cried Mrs. Redmond in a new agony of fear, as she remem- 
bered what Dr. Shaw had said about the possible action of 
chloral. No mother over her child could have shown more 
earnest solicitude. 

When she succeeded in rousing the girl to a state of semi- 
consciousness, she tried what fright would do to overcome 
her lethargy. 

Taking the candle, she held it again in the dark shaft of 
the tower, and j^urposely let it full from her hands. The light 
went out instantly, leaving them in complete darkness, and a 
hollow ring, like the fall of a stone in a deep well, came ujd 
as the metal candlestick struck the bottom. 

“ That is what you have escaped,” she said. 

The poor girl moaned in horror, cramping her hands upon 
the floor, as if to save herself. 

“ Help me ! save me ! ” she murmured. 

“You must save yourself,” said Mrs. Redmond, retreating 
from the open door, herself terrified by the darkness. 

Nessa caught at the skirt that touched her, springing to 
her feet, clung convulsively to the woman’s arm, as she made 
her way rapidly along the passage and down the stairs. 

In the hall faintly lit by the light from the sitting-room, 
Mrs. Redmond pointed to the open door. 

“ He went out there. I saw him. He may come back to 
finish the work he began. We must shut the door,” she 
said. 

Her dramatic tone and gestures, her pallid face and disor- 
dered hair, were well calculated to stimulate Nessa’s alarm 
and overcome the effects of the narcotic. Indeed, the girl. 


BET^YEE]S' LIFE AND DEATH. 


52 

who had never before known fear, was now wrought to such 
a pitch of nervous excitement that her trembling fingers were 
powerless to push home the bolts when the great door w^as 
slammed to. 

“ We are safe for the present,” said Mrs. Redmond, turn- 
ing the key. “ Now come in here. There, sit down and be 
calm ; we have no time to lose. We must settle what we are 
to do at once. He’s not likely to half do his murderous work 
if he gets another chance to murder you.” 

“Murder me! who would do that?” asked Nessa, with a 
piteous quaver in her voice. 

“ Who ? — my husband. Who else would ? ” 

“Why should he?” 

“To save himself from ruin. He must go to the w'ork- 
house or the gaol if you live. A man would kill himself 
to avoid that fate ; do you think he would hesitate to take 
the life of a girl instead, if he found a safe opportunity ? ” 

It seemed to Nessa impossible — incredible. She had read 
of such things ; but sbe could not realize that she had been 
destined to such a fate. 

“ Don’t you believe me ? ” asked Mrs. Redmond, with sharp 
impatience. 

“ It all seems so strange,” faltered Nessa. 

“He came into my room, and asked about you. I told 
him what had happened to you last night — like a fool. I 
repented it the moment he left me, for I know what he is. I 
wap uneasy about it, and after lying awake an hour I slipped 
on my clothes and came down here to see if it were true that 
he had letters to write, as he told me. The lamp was here, 
where it stands now, but there was no sign of his having 
written letters, and he was gone. While I stood over there 
in the shadow, he passed on tiptoe through the hall, and 
went out by the door as white as a ghost. Then I knew be 
had been doing wrong, and I went up to your room. You 
were gone, but just outside your door — toward the door in 
the tower — your shoe lay on the ground. At that moment I 
heard your cry. As you know, I found the door bolted upon 
you. Now have you any doubt ? ” 

Nessa shook her head. 

“ He had not the courage to murder you outright ; but he 
jmt you where you could not move without destroying your- 
self. He went away that he might not hear your cry, intend- 
ing to come back and open the door when all was over, that 
it might appear you had opened it and passed through in 
your sleep. I told him of our visit to Dr. Shaw yesterday ; 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


53 


that would Lave supported the conclusion, and freed him 
from suspicion. He’ll come back presently, when he thinks 
the thing is done. If you want any further proof, you can 
open the front door, and watch him from here go up those 
stairs to the passage again.” 

She rose as she spoke. Nessa caught her arm and held 
her, glancing at the window, almost expecting to see a white, 
sinister face looking through at her. 

“No, no,” she faintly articulated under her breath, “don’t 
— don’t open it ! ” 

“Not I ! He’d kill me to hide his crime — kill us both to 
save himself. Why shouldn’t he shoot us through that win- 
dow ? He took his gun. Who is to save us ? What is there 
to prevent him ? ” 

Nessa snatched at the blind and pulled it down. Mrs. 
Redmond, whose dread was not all simulated, moved the lamp 
that tlieir shadows might not betray them on the window. 

“ What shall we do ? ” asked Nessa. “ What can we do ? ” 

“ That’s it — what can we do ? Two women against a fiend 
like that ? ” 

“ Where is the gardener?” 

“ He sleeps in the outbuildings — over the stables, and he’s 
deaf. I dare not cross the court-yard. Will you ? ” 

Nessa shook her head and sank into a chair, her trembling 
limbs failing her. 

“ One can’t expect much from you,” said Mrs. Redmond. 
“You look half dead — and no wonder! If the girl were in 
the house,” she continued, in a tone of reflection, “we might 
send her ; but she sleeps out there. Perhaps by calling 
from a back window we might make her hear ; but it’s 
scarcely worth the I’isk of exposing one’s self. If the chaise 
were out I should not like to go down that avenue in the 
dark.” ^ 

“Are you going away?” Nessa faltered. 

“I should think so ! Why, you don’t suppose I’d stop an- 
other day — to say nothing of another night — in this ghastly 
place with a murderer. My life’s as much in danger as yours 
now.” 

“ You won’t leave me here ? ” 

“It isn’t likely. Do you think I’m as bad as my hus- 
band?” 

“Oh, forgive me! I don’t know what I say; I am quite 
unnerved. It was wicked to think you would abandon me — 
you whom I owe my life to ! ” 

“ That’s all right, don’t cry. We’ve got to think. As soon 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 


as it’s light we’ll wake the servant and get the trap out. We 
shall be safe enough then. Once outside this devilish place 
I shall feel safe. But what am I to do with you ? You can’t 
go back to the school. He would find you there. You’ll 
never be safe where he can lay hands on you.” 

“ Where are you going ? ” 

“ Oh, I shall go to London.” 

“ Will you let me go tliere, too ? ” 

“ What money have you ? ” 

“ None. But I could earn my living there, surely ?” 

“ That’s all you know about it. Who would employ you 
without a reference ? Why, no one would take you as a ser- 
vant without a character.” 

“ But if I explained how it was I came to need a situ- 
ation ” 

“ If you came to me with such a story I should say this 
good-looking young woman has done something foolish, and 
run away from her friends to escape the consequences. I 
should ask for the name and address of 3'our wicked step- 
father, and tell you to call again to-morrow. Then I should 
telegraph to him, under the impression that I was doing you 
a kindness in restoring you to your family ; and when you 
called on me for a reply, you would be met by Mr. Kedmond, 
who would whisk you off to Grahame Towers by the next 
conveyance. Why, you poor, simple child, without some sort 
of protection you would find yourself alone in this house with 
your worst enemy, and at his mercy, in less than twenty-four 
hours from the time you escaped. It isn’t a day or a week 
or a month that 3^ou must keep out of his reach ; you must 
keep out of his reach for three long yeai's if you value your 
life. And you may reckon on this, every day of those three 
long years will be employed by him in getting ^^ou back — 
back into the grav#you have slipped out of.” 

“What shall I do?” murmured Nessa in despair. 

“ Three yeai’s,” said Mrs. Bedmond, turning her back on 
Nessa, and speaking in a slow meditative tone, that encour- 
aged the anxious girl to hope — “ three years : it sounds a 
long while, but three years soon pass. At the end of three 
years we could snap our fingers at him ! ” She stood silent 
a moment, keeping the girl in feverish uncertainty of hope 
and fear, and then, turning abruptly on her, she said, “ Nessa, 
if I give you three years of my life ; if I abandon house, home, 
position — all that a woman values ; if I jeopardize my own 
existence to preserve you from such a fate as this you have 
escaped from — perils that must beset 3^ou till your fortune is 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 55 

beyond the reach of that wretch — may I depend on your grat- 
itude afterward ? ” 

“ Oh, if you knew me ! ” exclaimed the girl, clasping her 
hands, unable to find words for her feelings. 

“ But I don’t know you. I know nothing about you. You 
look as if you were to be trusted, but when the danger is 
past, will you feel as you feel now ? ” 

“If you never do anything more for me than you have 
done to-night I must yet be always — always grateful.” 

“ And will you be obedient to my direction ? ” 

“ Oh, yes — yes — yes ! In all things.” 

“I will believe you. You shall go to London with me ; 
you shall share all I have. I will save 3'ou.” 

“ And you shall share all I have — when I have anything to 
share.” 

“That is fair. For without me you would surely have 
nothing. It is a bargain between us, Nessa.” 

“A bargain — oh, no, no. If I gave 3’ou all I must still owe 
you my life. Oh! I can never repa3" all.” 

“ We shall see,” said Mrs. Kedmond, moving toward the 
door. “ Come up with me. We must pack wbat we have to 
take with us. As soon as it is light we will go ” 

Her manner chilled Nessa for a moment, but no longer. 
The girl’s heart warmed quickly in the rush of generous sen- 
timent that sprang from her soul. 

Darting forward she threw her arms about the w’oman, and 
pressing her burning lips upon the soft, pallid face she mur- 
mured her love and gratitude in foolish, broken sentences. 

“ You are a little goose ! ” said Mrs. Eeclmond, lotting her 
shoulder playfully. “ A little goose,” she added to herself, 
“ that shall yield me many a golden egg.” 

And recalling the fable she blessed her ^ars that she had 
not succeeded in killing her goose. 


CHAPTER X. 

A PEIVATE INQUIRY. 

“ No one has received so many rewards and commendations 
from her Majesty’s judges, magistrates, and bankers as F. 
Griffiths I ” He has said so himself, and his statement has 
appeared daily in the newspapers without being disputed by 
any other private detective. 


50 


BETWEEN LIEE ANB DEATH. 


F. Griffiths was seated in his highly respectable office on 
the second lloor of No — , Dean’s Yard, Westminster, writ- 
ing a letter with the laborious care of an inspector making 
out his charge-sheet, when the door opened, and a gentle- 
man entered, with a certain reluctance that characterizes the 
person who seeks help for the first time at a private inquiry 
agency. 

P. Griffiths rose to his feet, and stood bolt upright behind 
his desk, with his hands by his side, as if to the call of atten- 
tion at general inspection. He was a square man, with 
a military cut of hair and whiskers, a trace of the policeman 
in the redness of his neck, and a suggestion of the lawj’er in 
the twinkling depths of his eyes. He looked capable and 
honest, and the visitor, favorably impressed by his appear- 
ance, closed the door and cut off his retreat. 

“Mr. Griffiths,” he said, with a little difficulty over the Mr. 
that showed he was a foreigner. 

“ Yes, sir : that’s me. Take a seat, sir.” 

Griffiths made one step forward and placed a chair ; one 
step backward, and seated himself. 

His visitor was a tall, elderly, gray-haired gentleman, with 
a shaven face, a fair skin, and blue eyes, dressed with partic- 
ular neatness in a well-fitting travelling suit of gray. Griffiths 
would have taken him for an Englishman but for his pronun- 
ciation — a gentleman in easy circumstances from the country, 
possibly in the medical profession. 

“ My name is Petersen. I live in Copenhagen, and I am 
in great trouble,” said the gentleman, giving his card with a 
sigh. 

“ People generally are in trouble when they come to see 
me,” said F. Griffiths, cheei-fully. “ It’s my business to get ’m 
out of it.” 

“You have a great deal of experience.” 

“ Experience ! Lord, sir, if I could show you all the cases 
I’ve got in this book,” laying his hand on a thick folio with a 
locked clasp before him, “you’d be surprised. There’s no 
sort of trouble that ain’t got its history here. A general 
practitioner doesn’t get a greater variety of cases to deal with 
than I have ; and though I don’t pretend to do impossibili- 
ties, I may say there’s scarcely anything in the private inquiry 
line that I find it impossible to do. Now, I daresay it’s 
something in that way you want me to do for you, sir?” 

“Yes ; it is that. I will tell you all.” 

“That’s right, sir. Don’t be afraid of giving me too 
many particulars. Look upon me as a kind of doctor, who 


BETWEEN LIFE ANT) DEATH. 57 

must know all about his patient before he can do him any 
good.” 

“ That is so,” Petersen said, gaining confidence. “ I am 
a widower, and I have one daughter and one son — one son, 
Eric. He is very dear to me, for he is a good son in all 
things. He is twenty-one ; and we three have been travelling 
through Europe since the spring, because my son has come 
to manhood and it is well he should see something of the 
world and people. It was the dearest wish of his heart and 
of mine that we should make this journey together.” 

“See a bit of life like. Yes, sir.” 

“We have been staying in London two weeks — it is the 
end of our journey ; and to-morrow we were to go back to our 
own country. I was glad, for my son has been unlike him- 
self since he came here, and I could see he had some trouble 
in his heart that he dared not tell me. He has left us often 
to go out alone, and when with us his thoughts have been 
away from us.” 

“Altogether he’s been carrying on sort of mysterious.” 

“Yes; he has carried on so. This moruiug when I said 
to him, not without fear in my heart, ‘ This is the last day 
of our holiday, Eric. To-morrow we go home,’ his face be- 
came quite white, and coming to my side, he took hold of my 
hand, trembling very much, and said, ‘ Father, you must 
leave me here. I cannot go home;’ and then he told us 
what has made him so strange ; he has fallen in love with an 
English girl. My son is no longer a child ; I cannot make 
him go back with me ; yet in many ways he is so simple that 
I dare not leave him in this vast city alone.” 

“You don’t feel like settling down here yourself?” 

“I have my business. I must return very soon.” 

“You don’t see your w\ay to taking the .young female?” 

“I do not want my son to marry yet; he is too j’-oung. 
But that is nothing. If she is a good girl, and fit to be niy 
son’s wife, he shall many her, even if she refuses to come to 
our country. But I must know that ; I must be sure that she 
is good before I leave my jDOor boy ” 

“Ah, now I’m getting into it. I see what you w^ant, sir; 
you want me to find out wdiat sort of a character this 3'oung 
party is.” 

“Yes; I must know that,” said the old gentleman, em- 
phatically. “ I must know if she is good or bad. If I can 
show my son that she is not good, then I think i-espect for 
himself — respect for his sister and me — will lead him to break 
away from this terrible infatuation.” 


58 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


“ Quite so, sir. You shall have a full and true account of 
her. All you have to do is just to tell me her name and ad- 
dress.” Saying this, Griffiths fished out a note-book, and 
prepared to write in it with business-like alacrity. 

“ Unfortunately I do not know the name or address,” said 
Mr. Petersen. 

“Well, I suppose we can get the information from your 
son.” 

“ No. He knows no more about her than I do, except that 
he has seen her more often, and settled in his mind that she 
must be good because she is beautiful. But a girl may be 
beautiful and yet not good.” 

“I should think so. But am I to understand, sir, that the 
young gentleman has fallen in love with the party to this ex- 
tent without knowing her name or where she lives ? ” 

“It is so. He has never spoken to her.” 

In order to conceal his astonishment Griffiths had to bear 
in mind that this old gentleman and his son were “Germans 
or something,” and that to people of that kind nothing in the 
way of sentiment is too extravagant. 

“You have seen her, I suppose, sir?” he asked. 

“Yes. We sat beside her at a theatre. I noticed her 
when we rose to go. She dropped her fan, and my son picked 
it up. She smiled on him. That is the only time I have seen 
her.” 

“ What part of the house were you in ? ” 

“The stalls.” 

“ Which row ? ” 

“ The third from the front, I think.” 

“ Was she alone ? ” 

“No, she was with a woman ; a w'oman old enough to be 
her mother. I noticed her, too, because she looked at me as 
no lady would look at a man with white hair.” 

“ I understand, sir. That’s what malies you uneasy — see- 
ing this young female in the society of the unpleasant party.” 

“ Yes : it must be that. I did not see anything in the girl 
that I disliked.” 

“ Were the stalls well filled ? ” 

“ Yes ; I did not see one empty seat.” 

“ Then they pai<l for their seats. Orders would have gone 
in the back row. Tliat shows they must be pretty well off.” 

“I have no doubt about that. The}” were dressed magni- 
ficently. Besides, they have a carriage and ride fine horses.” 

“ How did you learn that, sir ? ” 

“ My sou has seen them in the park since that night.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


59 


“ When ? ” 

“ Many times — in the afternoon.” 

Gi-iffiths started to his feet. 

“ Come along with me, sir,” said he. “We may be there 
in time to catch sight of ’em to-day. Only just point out the 
female and I’ll undertake to find out her name and address 
and all the reSt before the week’s out.” 

The cab that had brought Mr. Petersen to Dean’s Yard was 
standing outside tlie door. 

“ That cab won’t do,” said F. Griffiths, at a glance. “ The 
horse is no good, and the man’s a fool. Pay him, sir. Where 
did you come from ?” 

“ Charing Cross Hotel.” 

“ Shilling fare, sixpence waiting — give him two shillings.” 

At the cab rank he found a hansom to his taste — rubber 
tires, good horse, and a driver as spry as a terrier. 

“ I may want you to go sharp, and I may want you to go 
slow,” said Griffiths in an impressive undertone to the driver 
as Mr. Petersen got in. 

“ Yussir,” replied the driver, bending down attentively, 
with the perception that he had a good job in hand. 

“ When I shove the trap up sharp, go like blazes ; when I 
shove it up slow, slacken down till it closes, and keep up that 
pace. Don’t stop till I sing out. Understand? ” 

“ Yussir. Where to ? ” 

“ Straight before you. Take your direction from my walk- 
ing stick, and keep a shar^D lookout for it. Understand ? ” 

“ Eight you are, sir ; I’m fly.” 

Following these directions the cabman drove like the wind 
to Buckingham Palace Gate, and thence at a walking pace 
through the park to the Marble Arch. There he turned 
round, and returned the same way at a smart trot, turning at 
the corner, and pulling up by the sidewalk within a hundred 
yards of the Piccadilly entrance. 

They had passed scores of carriages, but up to this point 
Mr. Petersen had failed to detect the ladies they sought, 
though he had followed several with his eye uneasily. 

“Are you pretty certain you’ll know the parties if you see 
’em ? ” asked Griffiths, observing the painful anxiety in the 
old gentleman’s face with misgivings. 

“ I have seen three or four women like the elder of the two, 
but none like the younger. There is not among them all one 
so beautiful.” 

“ We’ve seen some clippers, too. ’Pears to me, sir, there’s 
more riders than drivers to-day. Sort o’ day that I should 


60 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


take to the saddle if I had the choice. Well have a look at 
the Kow.” 

He got out and nodded to the driver as a signal to wait ; 
he also cast a glance at the constable on duty in the road, 
who recognizing him, acknowledged the glance by raising his 
hand in salute. In the Row he stationed himself with Mr. 
Petersen at the railings. 

“Who have you got your eye on, sir?” he asked presently. 

“My son — my poor Eric. He is over there in the light 
suit like mine.” 

A tall, well-built young man, with a fair face and a light 
mustache, was looking eagerly up the Row. 

“ I should have taken him for an Englishman — a young 
gent from college,” F. Griffiths soliloquized mentally. “He 
don’t look like a fool — anyways not such a cursed fool as to 
go mad about a female he’s never spoke to.” 

“I do not see them here,” said Mr. Petersen, despondingh'. 

“P’raps not, sir, but they’re here. Don’t you see how the 
young gentleman keeps his eyes turned one way, and takes 
no notice of anybody passing before him. Keep your eye 
that way too, sir — never mind Mr. Eric.” 

They waited five minutes ; then Mr. Petersen in hushed 
excitement murmured, “These two, I think. I am not sure. 
Yes, I think the graceful lady on the outer side is the one.” 

“I am sure of it,” said Griffiths, emphatically. “Look at 
your son.” 

The young man had drawn back from the rail, and his face, 
transfigured with an ineffable joy, was gazing on the young 
girl passing before him. 

While the old gentleman turned his ej^es with tender 
anxiety upon his son, Griffiths Avas taking in the Hvo ladies 
in a penetrating, comprehensive glance. One was of a type 
that he recognized in a moment — a shapely woman of the 
world Avith a very Avhite nose, dark eyebrows, and a knot of 
loose, soft golden hair ; the other a young girl, radiant with 
health and happiness, her white teeth gleaming through her 
parted lips, her large dark eyes sparkling with innocent en- 
joyment, Avas certainly not of the kind generally seen with 
such a companion. And though she sat her horse as if she 
had been used to the saddle from childhood, she had not the 
distinctive look of a girl long accustomed to exercise in the 
Row. “ She’d keep her lips shut, and look as if nothing was 
good enough for her if she was used to this sort of thing,” 
thought Griffiths, and then he shot a glance at the groom that 
folloAved them. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


61 


“ Come on, sir, I’ve got ’em ! ” he said, exultantly. 

“ Do you know them ? ” asked Mr. Petersen. 

“No, but I know their groom. They’re hired horses, and 
the groom comes from Dyer’s livery stables. However, I shall 
make sure,” he added, as he sprang into the cab and signalled 
the driver. “Drop in on me to-morrow morning, sir.” 

The next morning Mr. Petersen presented himself earl}' at 
Dean’s Yard. 

“ It’s all right, sir,” said Griffiths. “ The elder lady calls 
herself Mrs. Merrivale — a widow.” 

“ I noticed she wore some white inside her black bonnet 
when she left the theatre.” 

“ Yes ; it goes with her yellow hair, black. But she ain’t 
a widow, and her name ain’t Memvale. Her name’s Red- 
mond, and she’s run away from her husband.” 

“ And the young girl ” 

“ Said to be her niece, but she ain’t that. Her name’s 
Grahame.” 

“ Impostors both.” 

“ Yes, sir. But you needn’t worry about your son. They’ll 
be up before the magistrate before a Aveek’s out.” 

“They have done something wrong?” 

“ I should think they had. Embezzlement : that’s what 
they’ll be had up for ; and they’ll go to prison for it, as sure 
as my name’s Griffiths I ” 


CHAPTER XL 

THE DAY AFTER TO-MORROW. 

“ You say they will be sent to prison for embezzlement,” 
said Mr. Petersen, reflectively — “ tell me the meaning of that 
word ‘ embezzlement.’ ” 

“ Getting goods under false pretences — that’s embezzle- 
ment, sir,” replied the private inquiry agent. 

“And vet they keep horses and carriages and d!ress like 
that ! ” *' 

“ Why, that’s just how they do it. Lor’ bless you, sir, they 
couldn’t" get credit if they didn’t make a show. Not one of 
these West End houses would trust me with goods for five 
pounds ; but a smart female, with nothing in the world but a 
good stock of impudence, can let the whole lot of em in for 


62 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


hundreds easy. And they do. The West End tradesmen are 
constantly being done. A friend of mine, in the same line of 
business as myself, is employed regular by one of these firms 
to find out whether a new customer is a smasher or otherwise. 
I called on him last night, and he told me all about these two 
females. It appears his employers are going for ’em, cost 
what it may. It’s throwing good money after bad, as you 
may say. They’ll never get back a penny for the goods they’ve 
let go ; but, you see, they have to make a public example 
now and then, to frighten some of the shaky ones into paying 
up.” 

“ Is that young girl guilty as well as the woman ? ” 

“Both in it, sir ; and, from information received, I should 
say the young girl was more in it than the other. It’s she 
who’s let ’em in and got credit all round.” 

“ What is this ? Do you tell me that practical men of busi- 
ness would give large credit to a young girl like that ? ” 

“ I don’t think they would if they’d known it ; but the par- 
ties took precious good care they shouldn’t. This is how they 
did it. The young lady has a lot of cards printed with her 
name, ‘Vanessa Grahame,’ under a crest, and ‘ Graham e Tow- 
ers,’ over the London address in a corner. But auntie gives 
the cards, and orders the things to be sent home, and conse- 
quently leads me to believe she’s Vanessa Grahame. They 
worked another dodge of the same kind. It seems that they 
brought a pony carriage to London wdth ’em — very smart turn- 
out ; handsome black cob and silver-plated harness. There 
was a monogram, ‘M. K.,’ on the panel of the trap, and the 
same on the harness — showing that it belonged to this Mrs. 
Merrivale, who formerly called herself Redmond. Well, the 
first thing they did was to take off the monogram and stick 
Miss Grahame’s crest in the place of it. Clever, wasn’t 
it?” 

“It is dreadful to think of.” 

“ Why, so it is, sir — especially for the creditors. They’ve 
booked the things to Vanessa Grahame and can’t get a penny 
out of her ; nor her people, if she’s got any, seeing that she’s 
a minor ; and silks and furs and champagne and horse-riding 
and a villa furnished up to the nines are not exactly necessi- 
ties to a person in her circumstances. It appears,” continued 
Griffiths, consulting his note-book, “ that they came to Lon- 
don August 21st — barely two months ago — and put up for a 
week at the Grosvenor Hotel — there’s cheek for you ! Then 
they went into this villa at St. John’s Wood — the Pines.” 

“Where is St. John’s Wood?” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


63 


“ Northwest district, sir — where a lot of people of this sort 
live.” 

“ What sort of people ? ” 

“ Why, parties who haven’t any regular source of income. 
The party tl^ took this villa off is in the musical line, and 
she’s gone to America with an operatic company. There 
they’ve been going it like anything — living up to a couple of 
thousand a year, I should say, what with theatres every night, 
horse-riding, pony carriage, four servants, and high living.” 

Mr. Petersen said something in his own language which 
was quite incomprehensible to F. GriflSths, but in his voice 
there was an unmistakable tone of regret. 

“ Don’t you worry about your son, sir. There’s evidence 
enough to convict both the females of swindling. I’ve jotted 
down one or two facts here ” 

“ No, I have heard enough,” said Mr. Petersen, turning in 
his chair with a repelling movement of his hand. 

“Well, I’ve done the best I could for you,” said Griffiths in 
an injured tone, feeling tliat his client had every reason to be 
satisfied with the result of his inquiries. 

“Yes, you have done well.” 

“ I thought you didn’t seem quite satisfied.” 

“No, I am not satisfied when I think of that young girl, as 
I have seen her, quite a young maid — not older than my own 
daughter.” 

“ Well, you see, sir, I ain’t got any sympathy with girls of 
that sort.” 

“ Tell me what will become of her,” the old gentleman said, 
sharply facing about. 

“She’ll go to prison, and come out worse than before. 
She’ll play the same game on again. They always do ; and 
she’ll get another term in prison, and come out more hard- 
ened than ever. And so she’ll go on, cornin’ out and going 
in, till she’s a regular bad lot.” 

“And what will become of her then?” 

“ When she’s lost her good looks and her youth and all 
that — well, I’m blessed if I know what does become of ’em all 
then.” 

“And yet you have no sympathy for her while she is still 
young. My son loves her,” he added, tenderly, as he turned 
again in his seat. “ Perhaps I love her too. Surely there is 
something good in beautiful faces to win the love of innocent 
hearts.” 

“ Well there’s nothing more to be done, I suppose,” said 
Griffiths. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


64 


“ Yes there is,” replied Mr. Petersen, after a moment’s re- 
flection ; “ fiud out more about Miss Graliame. All we know 
now is what you have learned from a man occupied in secur- 
ing evidence to convict her of evil. I cannot believe that she 
is quite wicked, and I am sui-e — yes, quite sure — that my son 
will not believe it.” 

“ Why, as you say, sir, it’s only one man’s opinion, and he’s 
biassed. There’s one or two points in the case that I can’t 
quite make out satisfactorily, and it may be she’ll turn out to 
be only a tool in this Mrs. Kedmond’s hands when the truth 
is known.” 

“ That is what I want — the truth. Nothing more.” 

“Well, I’ll have to go at it, sir, and learn all there is to be 
learnt,” said Griffiths, with renewed cheerfulness. “In the 
meantime, don’t you say a word about this to your son.” 

“ God forbid I should do that wrong to Miss Grahame,” 
said Mr. Petersen ! He left the office, promising to call the 
next day. 

Griffiths sat for some time in consideration ; then he put 
money in his pocket, and went out to buy the truth about 
Miss Grahame. 

He did not get much for his money the first day ; but the 
next evening he obtained a few facts from Miss Grahame’s 
coachman. 

This young man had set down his mistress and Mrs. Mer- 
rivale at the doors of the Criterion, and was slowly working 
his way through the crowd of vehicles in Piccadilly Circus, 
when Griffiths coolly stepped up and took the box-seat beside 
him. 

“ Hallo, here — I say — what are you at ? ” asked the young 
fellow. 

“All right— drive on. I’m going with you just as far as 
Oxford Circus : that’s all. I want to know something about 
the ladies you have just set down, and I shall pay for the in- 
formation.” 

Ar^ment, or even objection, was out of the question in 
the midst of the traffic, and by the time he had driven into 
the comparative calm of Hegent Street, the coachman had 
come to the conclusion that he might just as well earn a 
shilling or two as not. 

“Well, now then, governor, what do you want to know?” 
he asked. 

“ Tell me what your ladies do from the first thing in the 
morning till the last thing at night. To begin with, what 
time do they come down in the morning?” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


65 


“ Mrs. Merrivale comes clown all manner of times, but Miss 
Grahame is mostly down by nine to breakfast. She’s always 
dressed and ready to go out for her riding lesson when Mr. 
B yer’s gentleman comes at ten with the horses.” 

“ Oh ; she goes out every morning for a riding lesson ? ” 

“Never misses a day ’cept Sundays. Never see such a 
young lady for riding. Don’t mind what sort of weather 
it is.” 

“Well, when she’s had her lesson?” 

“She comes home. They have lunch at one, and after 
that they either goes out again for a ride, the two of ’em, or 
else driving in the victoria.” 

“ Where do they drive ? ” 

“All manner of places: picture shows, shopping; but 
mostly they have a turn through the park. Every night it’s 
a theatre or a concert.” 

“ Or a music hall.” 

“Music hall!” echoed the young man, with disgust and 
indignation “Do I look like a coachman as drives ladies to 
music halls ? ” 

“Well, where do you take them?” 

“ I’ve told you.” 

“ Sometimes they go to visit friends, I suppose ? ” 

“No, they don't.” 

“ Well, anyhow, they stop to speak to acquaintances ? ” 

“No, they don’t. They haven’t got any acquaintances.” 

“ But surely they receive visits from someone. A gentle- 
man drops in now and then ? ” 

“ No, they don’t. No one drops in.” 

“Not even bill collectors.” 

“ You don’t call them gentlemen, I hope. We don’t, and 
we send ’em round to the servants’ door if they don’t know 
their place. Don’t you run away with any foolish error. 
We’re as respectable as if we lived in Bussell Square.” 

“ P’raps you’ve not been there long enough to know any 
better?” 

“I’ve been with them ever since they came to live in 
London. Now you’ve got your answer, and you can get 
down as sharp as you like.” 

“ What’s the matter ? ” 

“Why, you know well enough. You’ve been hinting that 
my people ain’t of no account, and that’s just as much as to 
tell me to my face that I haven’t got any character to lose. 
I know you, and I don’t want your money. If you can’t get 
off my box without assistance, I’ll call a policeman to help you.” 

5 


66 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Griffiths was not displeased with the young man’s virtuous 
indignation. It was clear that the ladies were living respect- 
ably. But where did they get the money to go to theatres 
and concerts “ most every night,” if it were an actual fact 
that they were driven to the dangerous extremity of goods 
under false pretences ? 

He took a cab to the Grosvenor Hotel, sent in his business 
card, and was presently taken into the manager’s room. 

“You have had two ladies staying in this hotel : one call- 
ing herself Mrs. Merrivale, the other Miss Grahame,” he 
began. 

The manager assented with a nod, and said they had stayed 
there a week in August. 

“I am instructed by friends of Miss Grahame to make in- 
quiry respecting certain debts incurred by that young lady.” 

“I have already answered inquiries on that subject.” 

“ Yes, I am aware. 1 have called to corroborate the in- 
formation given to my friend Peel.” 

“ AVell, I can only tell you what I told him — Miss Grahame 
owes us nothing.” 

“ May I ask if she paid in cash or by check?” 

“ Check.” 

“ You have no doubt about the check being genuine ? ” 

“ None at all. I can prove that at once to your satisfac- 
tion.” 

He opened the drawer and produced his bank books, whidi 
showed that a check for one hundred pounds, payable to Va- 
nessa Grahame, had been paid in to the bank and was duly 
honored. But the chief fact for Griffiths was that the check 
was drawn by Hyams Nichols. The name was well known to 
him ; Nichols was a professional money-lender. It was dated 
the same day that they left the Grosvenor. It looked as if 
they had been staying there only till they got the money to 
pay their bill. But it puzzled Griffiths to imagine how they 
had got the money out of Nichols : he was the last man in 
the world to be taken in by pretences of any kind. It cost 
Mr. Griffiths two whole days and the best part of a five-pound 
note before he got within measurable distance of an explana- 
tion. He succeeded at length, however, in getting Mr. Ben- 
jamin Levy, a clerk to Mr. Hyams Nichols, into his office, and 
there brought him to a communicative spirit. 

“ Mrs. Kedmond came to us the very day she bolted from 
her husband,” Mr. Levy explained. “She brought Miss 
Grahame with her. The young lady was dressed plainly, and 
looked particularly pale ; but there, I tell you, I was mashed 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


67 


at first sight, and stammered, and stumbled over the mat, and 
went on just like a fool showing ’em into the governor’s private 
office. And it is a good thing for you, Mr. Griffiths, I was 
mashed, for I wouldn’t have let down my governor for thou- 
sands if I hadn’t been. What I’m doing ain’t for you to 
quid : don’t think it. I’m playing for Miss Grahame ; not 
myself. 

“ ‘ Kead this, if you please,’ says Mrs. Eedmond, laying a 
paper on the table before the governor as soon as they W'ere 
seated. 

“ He reads it — so did I afterward. It w^as a will, leaving 
an estate worth forty or fifty thousand pounds to Miss 
Grahame, to be hers wdien she’s twenty-one, with a codicil 
placing her under the guardianship of James Kedmond until 
she comes of age, and bequeathing the whole estate to him in 
the event of her dying a minor. Do you see ? ” 

Griffiths noddetl. 

“ When the governor had read it through, Mrs. Redmond 
says, ‘ This is Miss Grahame ; I am the wife of her guardian, 
James Redmond.’ 

“ The governor butters ’em up wnth a couple of compli- 
ments — he’s a rare hand at that, you know — and she goes on : 
‘I have given up my home and all I have in the world, and 
brought this unfortunate young lady to London in order to 
save her from being murdered by the most infamous scoun- 
drel living — that scoundrel is my husband, James Redmond.’ 

“ ‘ Is it possible ? ’ says the governor, as if he’d never come 
across such a thing before. 

“ ‘ Miss Grahame herself w ill tell you that an attempt w^as 
made upon her life last night. Is not that true, Nessa ? ’ 

“ ‘ I should not have been alive now but for you, dear,’ re- 
plies the poor young lady in a low tone, taking Mrs. Red- 
mond’s hand affectionately. 

“ The governor w^as astounded, of course ; and then, having 
soaped ’em dowm again, he says, ‘ And wffiat do you propose 
to do, my dear ladies ? ’ 

“ ‘ I intend,’ says Mrs. Redmond, ‘ to live in London and 
keep Miss Grahame under my protection until she is entitled 
to her estate and is no longer in danger of falling a victim to 
my husband’s machinations. But I am without means. As 
I told you, I have abandoned everything. I have nothing 
but the pony carriage in which we made our escape from 
Grahame Towers and a few personal effects.’ 

“ ‘Your husband has no legal claim upon that property, of 
course ? ’ says the governor, getting on to business. 


68 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


“ ‘None/ says she ; ‘I have nothing that belongs to him 
— not even a name. That is a stain I will not bear. Hence- 
forth I sliall be known only by my maiden name — Merrivale.’ 

“ ‘ A very proper decision, Sirs. Merrivale,’ says the gover- 
nor. ‘ And now, I presume, you want me to give you a tem- 
porary pecuniary assistance ? ’ 

“ ‘Not for myself, but for Miss Grahame,’ says Mrs. Red- 
mond. ‘SUe must live during the next three years in a man- 
ner suitable to the position she is to occupy when she comes 
of age. For that purpose I wish you to advance the sum of 
five thousand pounds on the security of that will.’ 

“Tais was a large order, and the will, of course, was no 
security at all ; but the governor answered at once, as sweetly 
as if she had asked for a loan of half a crown on consuls for 
a hundred quid, ‘ There will be no difficulty in letting Miss 
Graliame have five thousand pounds for her present use on 
her promissory note, and if later on she would like to draw a 
bill, or a few thousand more — ’ 

“ Mrs. Redmond was delighted. ‘ Oh, thank you very 
much,’ says she. ‘ When can we have the money ? ’ 

“ ‘ You can have a couple of thousand to-morrow morning, 
if my legal adviser sees no objection to the security.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, you’ll find that all right,’ says she. ‘ You can see 
the will at Somerset House.’ 

“ That’s exactly what the governor sent me to do as soon 
as I had shown ’em out. I got a copy of the will from Somer- 
set House, and the governor did nothing all the rest of the day 
but look at it and stroke his beard. I was curious to know how 
the governor was going to work this job, for I knew perfectly 
well he never intended to let Mrs. Merrivale have money 
without good security. 

“She came alone next day, and the governor was more 
soapy than ever. 

“‘My legal adviser,’ says he, ‘has pointed out one fact 
that we have overlooked. If Miss Grahame should die before 
twenty-one, her promissory note is worth nothing, as the 
whole estate goes to Mr. Redmond. The probability is that 
Miss Grahame will not die while she enjoys your valuable 
protection ; but should it happen that she fell by some un- 
fortunate accident into the hands of her guardian, the pros- 
pect of her attaining the age of twenty-one is — well, very 
small indeed. Nevertheless, I think we may overcome the dif- 
ficulty by insuring the young lady’s life for the sum we wish 
to place at her disposal, and leaving the policy in my hands 
as security. I shall be happy to pay the preliminary expen- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


69 


ses, and all that Miss Grahame need do is to submit to a 
medical examination at a respectable insurance office, and 
put her name to a piece of paper.’ 

“Well, of course, Mrs. Kedmond agreed to that, and the 
same afternoon Miss Grahame j^assed an examination, and 
filled up a form of application to insure her life for five thou- 
sand pounds. The governor paid the premium, and got the 
policy the following week ; and to do the thing handsome, 
handed Miss Grahame a check for £100 on the spot, promis- 
ing the rest of the loan by the end of the week. 

“ You may lay your life he didn’t keep his promise. Mrs. 
Redmond had got enough to start with, and didn’t bother us 
for three or four days. When she did come the governor, of 
course, was out, and when she came again he was out — in 
fact, he’s always out, and she’s never seen him from the day 
he gave her the first check to this. Many a time, when she 
was raging like a fury in the outer office, he was sitting inside 
stroking his beard and grinning, just like a cat cleaning its 
whiskers after chawing up a mouse. 

“ But he wasn’t always in. He went down to Lullingford 
for a few days’ fishing, and managed to scrape an acquaintance 
with Mr. James Redmond. He didn’t say anytliing to him 
then, but last week, when he heard that the police were watch- 
ing Mrs. Redmond, and had found her out pawning some 
jewels she hadn’t paid for, he goes down to Lullingford 
again, and tells Redmond that it’s his painful duty to inform 
him that his ward. Miss Grahame, is carrying on in London 
with a woman of suspicious character. And now he and Red- 
mond and the police are all working it together for their own 
ends. Do you see ? ” 

“ No, I don’t quite,” said Griffiths. 

“Well, I’ll just tell you what will happen to-morrow, as 
sure as ever the sun rises. They will be taken into custody 
when they go out of the house in the afternoon ; that’s what 
will happen to-morrow. The day after to-morrow they’ll be 
brought before the magistrate, and be charged with fraud. 
Redmond’s solicitor will step forward and affirm that Miss 
Grahame is a young lady of unsound mind, who ran away 
from school after playing a mad freak, and has taken refuge 
with Mrs. Merrivale — whom Mr. Redmond, of course, will 
never in all his life have seen before — and been an unwary 
tool in the hands of that unprincipled woman. 

“ Possibly Miss Grahame will be discharged ; if not, she 
will certainly be let off on bail, and in either case she will be 
snugly placed in the hands of that scoundrel Redmond. 


70 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


Mrs. Merrivale will be committed for trial, without doubt. 
That’s what will happen the day after to-morrow. 

“ What will follow in due course is just as certain. Mrs. 
Merrivale — Redmond — will go to jail, Miss Grahame will die, 
and the governor will get live thousand pounds from the 
Providence Insurance Company for the neatest job he has 
ever had the good fortune to fall in with.” 

Late as the hour was when Griffiths parted from the 
amiable Mr. Levy, he went to the Charing Cross Hotel, and 
in a private interview with Mr. Petersen laid the whole case 
clearly before him. 


CHAPTER Xn. 

TO THE KESCUE ! 

It was striking ten as Eric Petersen left the Charing Cross 
Hotel and hailed a hansom, running toward the cab as he 
called to the driver. 

“St. John’s Wood,” he said, putting a clearly-written ad- 
dress in the man’s hand. “I will give you a sovereign if you 
drive quickly.” 

His father and his sister had followed him quickly down 
the stairs. The cab was turning round and facing them as 
they came to the door. The girl, with love and hope in her 
face, waived her hand in encouragement ; the father also 
waved his hand, looking at his dear son through the tears that 
dimmed his sight. Eric saw nothing but a vision of the girl 
he had to save from death. 

There had been a thick fog in the streets all night — the 
first of the season ; it had lifted a little, and hung over the 
houses in a copper canopy, but it had left the roads greasy. 
It was maddening to sit behind the stumbling horse with the 
knowledge that the dearest life in the world might be lost by 
delay. 

“ Roads very bad, sir, this morning,” said the driver, apolo- 
getically, through the trap. “ We shall be all right soon’s we 
get off the stones.” 

So it proved. The cop|)fr cloud became gray, the sun 
standing out sharp and flat like a red wafer ; the horse 
spanked along the hard, dry macadam, making up for lost 
time, leaving everything on wheels behind. At length the 
cab drew in toward the curb and pulled up sharp before a 
house that stood back from the road, screened by a shrub- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 71 

bery and a couple of fir-trees. On the gate-post was the 
name of the house — the Pines. 

As Eric stepped quickly from the cab, he cast an eager 
glance at the windows of the house visible above the shrubs. 
The face he sought was not there. Then he glanced to the 
right and left. Against a lamp-post at the corner of the 
street to the left, a man looking like a laborer out of work 
stood, a pipe in the corner of his mouth, his hands in his 
breeches pockets ; against the wall hard by a mate leant ; he 
W’as intent on cleaning his pipe with a straw and never raised 
his eyes. The fellow against the j^ost just shifted his shoul- 
der against the post to look in dull curiosity at the cab. 
Without a doubt, they were police in disguise waiting to ar- 
rest Mrs. Merrivale and Miss Grahame. ‘‘Thank God, I am 
not too late ! ” said Eric to himself, as he passed the gate and 
approached the house. While he stood at the door, one of 
the two men from the street corner slouched past the open 
gate and cast an eye at him. 

“ I Nvish to see Miss Grahame at once,” said Eric, as the 
door opened. 

“ Miss Grahame’s not at home, sir,” said the man-servant ; 
“ she went out about half an hour ago.” 

Ei-ic’s heart fell — “ And Mrs. Merrivale,” he faltered. 

“ No, sir, she’s in. Miss Grahame went out with the rid- 
ing-master alone.” 

That explained the presence of the detectives. They had 
let the girl slip for fear of losing the greater culprit. 

“ I think she’s gone in the park for her lesson ; she gener- 
ally does.” Tlie young man added : “ You might meet her 
if you went in by the Marlborough Road way.” 

Eric ran down to the cab. One of the laborers was now 
standing by the curb, about a yard ahead of the cab. The 
other had quitted the wall to grace the lamp-post. If Mrs. 
Merrivale had come out to the cab she would have stood but 
a poor chance of escape between the two. 

“Marlborough Road,” said Eric, as he stepped into the 
hansom, and then lifting the trap w^hen the cab had gone a 
hundred yards, he added, “ I want to find a lady who has 
gone into the park with a man to have a riding lesson.” 

“ Right you are, sir. I think ftinow the most likely place 
to look for ’em.” 

He turned into the park. The sky grew brighter. The 
sun was radiant now and sparkled in the moisture that beaded 
the bare twigs of the trees. Only a thin mist softened the 
distance. The young man’s heart grew brighter too, and his 


72 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


eyes sparkled with eager hope. Presently the trap was 
lifted. 

“There’s a lady and gentleman on ahead, sir, and there’s 
no groom,” said the driver. Eric had already discovered 
them. 

“ Yes, that is she,” he answered, trembling with emotion ; 
“ they are coming this w'ay. Stop when she is near.” 

They came on at a gentle canter. Before the cab stopped, 
Eric sprang out and stood in the road before them. 

There was no one else within fifty yards. It was clear that 
this young gentleman had business with them, and they reined 
in instinctively. 

Eric, taking off his hat, stepped to Nessa’s side, and stood 
there for a moment hat in hand, looking up at her, unable to 
speak. Nessa, sitting erect in the saddle, looked down on him 
in round-eyed astonishment at first, her cheek pale with the 
undefined misgiving that seized her ; then her cheek flushed 
as she recognized the gentleman who had picked up her fan 
at the theatre, and whom she had seen more than once since 
in the parks following her with his eyes. Mrs. Merrivale, 
whose comprehensive glance overlooked no one, had by a 
word pointed him out several times to her, and joked her 
about her bashful admirer. It occurred to her that he was 
about to make himself openly ridiculous ; that put her on her 
dignity at once. 

“Miss Grahame,” Eric faltered, “j'^ou must pardon me. I 
have something to say to j^ou which only 3*011 may hear ; ” he 
glanced significantly at the riding-master who stood beside 
Nessa. 

“ Then you will have to find a more fitting opportunity,” 
said Nessa, touching her mare with the whip. 

“ You must hear me,” said Eric, laying his hand on the 
reins in desperation as she moved. 

“ Do you venture, sir — ” she began. 

“ Oh, I will venture anything — even at the risk of 3’our an- 
ger. Listen — ” 

She drew back indignantly as he pressed toward her side ; 
but she heard the words he whispered under his breath : 
“ The police are waiting down there to seize 3*ou and give 
you into the hands of James Kedmond.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


73 


CHAPTER XIII. 

IN THE PAKK. 

The name of James Redmond had a magic effect upon 
Nessa, wliose mind, despite its youthful elasticity, had never 
been able to throw off the dread and horror impressed upon 
it by the terrible events of the night at the Towers. This 
unknown friend’s sincerity was marked in his face ; his warn- 
ing was not to be disregarded. She drew vigorously on the 
rein, and the mare who, at the touch of her whip, had started 
forward, freeing her bridle with a toss of the head from Eric’s 
hand, now answered with a show of temi:)er, rearing on her 
hind legs, and then backing with head down, quivering nos- 
trils, and swishing tail. The riding-master, who had kept 
stolidly aloof, watching the proceedings from the tail of his 
eye in readiness to meet an emergenc3% now pressing to Nessa’s 
side, asked, in a low tone, if she needed his assistance. 

“Please leave me for a few minutes,” she said; and then 
turning to Eric, she bent down in her saddle, saying, in a voice 
tremulous with anxiety, “I do not understand you. Tell mo 
what you mean.” 

Beautiful she looked with her lithe young figure bent thus, 
her paled cheek, her prettily curved lips parted in expectancy, 
her large dark eyes dilated like a frightened doe’s — more 
beautiful than ever she had appeared to Eric. He gazed up 
in that w'onderful face mute for a moment, and then her peril 
gave him the power to speak which adoration had taken from 
him. 

“Your life is in danger,” he said. “My father told me 
this morning, and sent me to save you. You have insured 
3’our life. The wretch who holds the policy has betrayed you 
to James Redmond, that he may take you away and put 
you to death. They have no souls — no love. The}" will kill 
you to get money. It does not seem true, but it is true — be- 
lieve me.” 

“I do believe it. I have escaped once.” 

“You may not escape again if 3"OU fall into that man's 
hands. Go to my father. See, that is his name, and that is 
where you will find him.” He put a card in her hand. 
“My sister is with him. She loves you, and my father loves 
you also. To-night we go to our home in Co^ienhagen. If 


74 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


you will come with us, no one in the world shall take you 
away — not while I live.” 

Wonder gave place to gratitude, and with that feeling warm- 
ing her heart the girl’s eyes twinkled, and her face became 
flushed with rich color and melted into a smile. She was 
moved to something more than gratitude by this act of un- 
sought friendship, by the devotion in the ej’es of this honest, 
good-looking young fellow. She was won by his simplicity 
and earnestness, which gained by the foreign accent with 
which he spoke, and certain quaint idiomatic terms which 
would look ridiculous in writing. “ If I were a man,” she 
thought, “ I would give him my hand, and show him how I 
feel this kindness.” He must have read that wish in her eyes, 
for he instinctively raised his hand as he said, 

“ Believe me, we are very true friends.” 

“You have shown me that,” she said, and passing the card 
to her left hand she dropped her right into his. What he 
did with it she did not seek to know, being occiij^ied in 
reading the card. 

“ Eric Petersen,” she read. 

“ Yes, that is my father’s name and mine also. My sister’s 
name is Lina. You will go to them ?” 

Yes,” she said, coming back to the gravity of her position. 
“It is a choice between life and death. But if the choice 
was not so serious as that,” she added, with a gentler inflec- 
tion, “ I would not lose the pleasure of knowing Lina and 
your father.” Then the practical difficulties and consequences 
occurred to her mind. “ But my clothes — I cannot travel in 
this dress ; and I have no monej-.” 

“All that is nothing. Lina has many dresses, and my 
father has money, and everything will be arranged when we 
get to Copenhagen.” 

“ And, oh ! I did not think of that. I am not alone. I 
have one friend whom I must not forget in thinking of my- 
self.” 

“ You will write from the hotel to Mrs. Kedmond,” Eric 
said, in an altered tone, and dropping his eyes for the first 
time. 

“ I could telegraph, and she will come and see me. Per- 
haps she too will go to Copenhagen. That is,” she added, as 
Eric kept his eyes down and made no response, “ if it is 
agreeable to your family.” 

“ Mrs. Eedmond will not leave London with us.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ Yes ; I have been to the house.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 75 

“All, she told you she would not go. I remember she 
dreads the sea.” 

“No, it is not that,” said Eric, after a brief silence. “I 
must tell you the truth. When Mrs. Kedmond goes out of 
the house she will be taken to prison.” 

“ Prison ! ” Nessa exclaimed, in terror. “Taken to prison ! 
Why?” 

“ Because she is not a good woman.” 

Nessa was silent a moment ; then she said — 

“Oh, Iain sorry you, should say so. It is so unjust — so 
cruelly untrue. She is the best friend I have in the world. 
She has saved my life, and she has given up everything for 
my sake. I might have starved in London alone. She has 
managed my affairs, and given me all that I have.” 

Eric looked up at her in joy, wishing his father were there 
to hear this confirmation of the girl’s simplicity and inno- 
cence. 

“ What wrong has she done? ” Nessa asked, angrity. 

“She has given you what was not hers to give — bought 
many things in your name which you cannot hope to jiay 
for.” 

“ Everything was for me, and every farthing shall be paid 
when the man who insured my life paj’s me what he promised 
to pay.” 

“ He will never do that. He is plotting to get Mrs. Ked- 
mond sent to prison, and put you into the hands of the man 
who will destroy you.” 

“Then he has done the wrong, not my friend. Oh, you 
must see that she is not in fault.” 

“I ma}' have done her an injustice.” 

“You have, done her an injustice,” Nessa said, fiercely, 
“ and you have wronged me too. Oh, how ill you must think 
of me — what an ungrateful coward I must seem — to believe 
that I would run away to be out of danger, and leave her to 
face alone the trouble she had brought upon herself for my 
sake ! But I am not a coward ; let them do their worst.” 

Her nostrils dilated. She set her teeth and knitted her 
brows as she quickly gathered up the rein that had slipped 
from her hand. 

“What are you going to do?” Eric cried, in entreaty, 
again putting his hand upon the rein. 

“I am going to my friend,” she answered, resolutely. 
“ Please take your hand from the rein.” 

“You can do no good.” 

“I can try, I can tell the truth, and no one can convict my 


7 G 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


friend when the truth is known. I must call for help if you 
detain me.” 

“ One moment, I implore you. You are throwing your life 
away. It is not my opinion, but the assurance of the police 
themselves. You cannot save your friend ; but I can. And 
I will, though you do not know how much it costs me.” 

She had reason to remember those words later on, with 
aching regret ; at the moment they only inspired hope. 
Again she held in her mare, and bent down to listen to his 
scarcely audible voice. He was speaking rather to himself 
than to her, as he hurriedly murmured — 

“Surely it can be done. We shall find means! It is your 
life that has to be saved. That is what I have to think of.” 

“You say you will save her? ” said Nessa. 

“Yes, if 3'ou will save yourself.” 

“ What am I to do ? ” 

“Go to some place of safety, and stay there until I bring 
your friend to you.” 

“I will go to your father.” 

“ No,” said Eric, shaking his head in sadness ; “ you must 
not go to him.” 

Nessa’s mind was too occupied with the thought of her 
friend’s escape to see the significance of this prohibition. 

“I could go to the riding-school in Finsbury,” she sug- 
gested, quickly. 

“ Yes, that is well. That gentleman will take care of you. 
Wait patiently. I will save your friend.” 

“Oh, if 3’ou do, I will never forget you.” 

“That is something,” said Eric to himself as he turned 
away. “ She will never forget me.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“bilked.” 

Nessa and the riding-master passed him rapidly as Eric 
reached the hansom. He followed her with his eyes, his 
heart aching with regret as he remembered the eager joy of 
watching for her coming day after day, and realized that 
henceforth he was never more to look for that dear face. By 
an effort of resolution he turned away, that he might concen- 
trate all his thought on the thing he had undertaken to do 
for her. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 77 

After a minute’s reflection lie said to the cabman, putting a 
sovereign in bis hand — 

‘ ‘ That is for what you have done. Now pay attention to what 
I say, and do as I tell you, and I will give you twice as much.” 

“Right you are, sir,” said the cabman, touching his hat, 
and bending down to receive instructions. 

“ First, drive back to the house where you set me down.” 

“The Pines, sir ?” 

“Yes ; but go back by a diflferent way, so that your horse’s 
head is toward Charing Cross.” 

“I understand, sir.” 

“ I shall go into the house. But someone else will come 
out and get into the cab. You will be ready to start at any 
moment ; you will not wait for anything ; but the instant that 
person is in the cab you will go.” 

“Like a shot.” 

“ That is so. Two men are in front of the house.” 

“I see ’em, sir. One passed the time o’ day to me ; but I 
never enter into no conversation with anyone when I’ve got 
a gentleman fare.” 

“ Good ! Those men may try to stop you ; but you must 
not let them.” 

“ I’ll give ’em a doing if they try. Of course, sir, if they 
gets hold of the animal’s head ” 

“They won’t do that, I think; but they ‘11 jirobably run 
after you, and call out to you to stop.” 

“ Well, they’ll have to run like steam t-o catch me ; and as 
for hollering, they’ll screech themselves hoai*se ’fore ever they’ll 
make me hear. No fear, sir, as long as they’re not hanging 
on to the horse.” 

“ When they are quite out of sight, j’ou will open the trap, 
and take your directions from the person inside. When you 
have set down that person, you will take this card to the 
Charing Cross Hotel. If I am not there, my father will give 
you payment.” 

He gave the card on which he had written a few words 
to his father while concluding his instructions, and sprang 
into the hansom. The driver started off at a speed that 
showed his determination to earn his paj'. 

The laborers were still waiting at the corner of the street. 
There were two gates to the drive that formed a semicircle 
before the house : the fii’st stood open. Eric entered by the 
next, which he flung back in passing. The cab drew up be- 
fore that one, as being the furthest removed from the corner 
of the street. 


78 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Eric sent liis card to Mrs. Merrivale, with the words, “ on 
a matter of importance,” written under his name. He was 
shown into a sitting-room. Mrs. Merrivale came down in a 
couple of minutes, with the card in her hand and a look of 
surprise on her face, which was not lessened when she recog- 
nized her visitor. 

Ill a few words Eric laid the whole case before her, dwell- 
ing only on Nessa’s generous refusal to save herself while her 
friend was in danger. That seemed to interest Mrs. Merrivale 
far less than the question of her own escape. 

‘‘ You say those wretches are waiting outside to take me ; 
how am I to get away ? ” she asked, shaking with fear. 

“Will you follow my directions?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ You have a caiTiage?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Can you depend on the driver ? ” 

“If it’s to his interest.” 

“ I will make it to his interest. Have you any female ser- 
vant you can trust to help us ? ” 

“ You can trust anj’one if you make it worth her while to 
help you. They’ll do anything for mone}'.” 

“Do 3’ou know if there is one more anxious than the rest 
to get money ? ” 

Mrs. Merrivale reflected a moment, and decided that the 
housemaid was the greediest of gain. 

“ Let her dress at once in your clothes — the best you have — 
the things you would wear if you were going to get things at 
shops. Let her wear a thick veil that cannot be seen through, 
and fasten it so that it cannot be raised easily.” 

“ I’ll sew it.” 

“ Do not forget to let her wear gloves.” 

“ She shall keep her hands in my muff if she can’t get my 
gloves on.” 

“ At the same time you will dress yourself for going out, 
as simple as possible, not to attract attention. Conceal your 
hair if 3’ou can. 

“ Yes, yes — I can do that.” 

“Let another servant pack a valise with a complete change 
of clothes for Miss Grahame. Hat, gloves — do not forget 
anything. Her safety ” 

“ All right ; all right,” interrupted Mrs. Merrivale, impa- 
tiently. “And when we’re dressed as you suggest, what 
then?” 

“ Where is your coachman ? ” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


79 


“ Down-stairs.” 

“How long shall you be packing the valise and dress- 
ing ? ” 

“ Twenty minutes.” 

“ Then tell your man to be at the front door with the car- 
riage by that time — the horse’s head to the west, so that the 
carriage will go out by the gate nearest the corner of the 
street.” 

“ Yes — what then ? ” 

“ I shall get into the carriage with your servant. If they 
are detectives at the corner of the street, they will stop the 
carriage before it has gone a dozen yards. The moment you 
see them occupied in arresting your servant, j’ou will slip out 
by the other gate, and jump into the cab I have left there. 
The driver has orders to start off at once in the other direc- 
tion, and as soon as he finds he is out of danger, he wull ask 
you where he is to drive to. You will tell him to take you to 
Radford’s, in Finsbury, where your friend is waiting in dread- 
ful suspense for you.” 

“Not I,” said Mrs. Merrivale, emphatically. “I’m not go- 
ing to Radford’s. I shall make for Victoria, and take the first 
train that leaves there. I’ll wire Nessa where she can find 
me.” 

Eric concealed his disgust under a stiff inclination of the 
head. Perhaps he did not wholly dislike a decision which 
gave him an opportunity of befriending Nessa a little further. 

The carriage drove up to the door as Mrs. Merrivale and 
the housemaid were coming down-stairs — the latter thickly 
veiled and wearing a sealskin mantle and muff, which her 
mistress had taken the precaution to pad to her own propor- 
tions. She was skilled in this sort of work, and had even 
added to the disguise a knot of false hair, which shone out 
below the black veil on the back of the girl’s head. 

“Where is the valise with Miss Grahame’s dress?” Eric 
asked. 

“ Oh, I’ve forgotten all about that. There’s no time to get 
it now.” 

“But I will not go without it,” said Eric, firmly. 

"With a stamp of her foot and a coarse word, Mrs. Merri- 
vale turned and ran up-stairs. When she came down with 
the portmanteau Eric opened it. He was not careless about 
the least thing that concerned Nessa. 

“ I do not see any hat,” he said. 

With another remonstrance Mrs. Merrivale returned to the 
room above and brought down a toque and a fur jacket as 


80 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


well, foreseeing that she might be sent up again if she omitted 
that. 

She stood back as Eric opened the door. A round hat and 
a pair of eyes were visible over the wall between the two gates. 
Eric gave his arm to the housemaid and led her down to the 
carriage, taking the portmanteau in his right hand. Raising 
his hat he opened the door, and when the girl was seated, he 
put the portmanteau ac the coachman’s feet, saying, in a low 
voice : 

“ Radford’s riding-school, in Einsbuiy. You shall have a 
pound if you get there in half an hour.” 

He took the seat beside the housemaid. 

“ My girl,” said he, “ I will give you five pounds if you pre- 
vent anyone seeing your face for five minutes. A man will 
try to see your face directly ; do not let him succeed.” 

Anxious to secure his sovereign, the coachman swept down 
the drive and out into the road in fine style. The laborers 
made a dart at the horse’s head, but the carriage had gone 
twenty yards before it was brought to a stand. One of the 
men stepped up and seated himself beside the driver ; the 
other came to the side of the carriage. 

“ We don’t want to make it unpleasant, sir,” said he, “ but 
this lady’s got to go to the police station with us. You can 
get out if you like, and I will take your place.” 

“ You will do nothing of the kind. I refuse to let you take 
this lady anywhere until you show me your authority.” 

“ I can pretty soon do that. I’ve got the warrant in my 
pocket, and I know Mrs. Merrivale there better than she 
knows me.” 

“ Charlie,” said the man on the box, in a sharp tone of 
alarm, as he turned round, “there’s a female hooking it in 
that cab. Have you got the right one there ? ” 

Charlie glanced at the cab, and then plucked at the house- 
maid’s veil ; but she was prepared for this, and met the attack 
so well that two valuable minutes were lost before her veil 
was removed, and then only with her bonnet and the knot of 
false hair. 

“ Bilked ! ” he cried, aghast. 

“ I thought as much,” said his mate, jumping down from 
the box. “ The right un’s in that cab, and we’re done if we 
can’t catch it up.” 

With that they bolted off after the rapidly-vanishing han- 
som ; while the driver of the victoria, still thinking of the 
pound to be won, rattled off in the opposite direction. 

In Moorgate Street, Eric stopped the carriage, paid the 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


81 


servants, and taking the portmanteau, told the driver to re- 
turn to St. John's Wood. In the waiting-room of the riding- 
school he found Nessa. 

“ Where is my friend ? ” she asked anxiously, seeing him 
alone. 

“ She has escaped ; but she thought it better not to come 
here,” Eric replied, with a delicate consideration for the girl’s 
feeling toward Mi*s. Redmond which led him to conceal the 
woman’s selfish motive. “ She will telegraph to you here 
when she has found a secure place where you may join her.” 

“ She feared they might follow her here and find me. For 
if anyone is guilty it must be I, who incurred all those dread- 
ful debts, you know.” 

She spoke in a tone of earnest persuasion, wishing to 
disabuse this new friend’s mind of the prejudice which he 
and his family obviously entertained against Mrs. Redmond. 

“I hope that no one is more guilty than you,” Eric re- 
>. plied, fervently. “Yes ; I wish that with my heart, for your 
sake. There is a dress in this valise for you ; you may have 
to make a journey, and it would be impossible in that riding- 
habit.” 

“ Oh, how thoughtful of her ! ” exclaimed Nessa ; “ anyone 
but a true friend would have been concerned only about her 
own safety at such a time.” 

“ A true friend cannot ever forget,” he said, with a touch 
of sadness, not attempting to disabuse her mind and show 
that it was he, and not Mrs. Redmond, who had thought of the 
details. 

Nessa called an attendant to take the portmanteau into the 
ladies’ dressing-room, and then turning to Eric, she said : 

“I want to thank you for all you have done, but I can find 
no words that are half nice enough just now. Perhaps I 
may while I am dressing,” she added, archly ; “ will you wait 
here till I come back ? ” 

“ I shall not go away until I must go.” 

When she was gone from the room, Eric sat with his face 
buried in his hands, seeing her face as one sees with closed 
eyes something of light that has fixed itself upon the retina. 

A clerk came into the room and apologized. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir — I thought Miss Grahame was 
here,” he said. 

He had an open paper in his hand. Eric rose. 

“You have a telegram for Miss Grahame,” he said. 

“ No ; the wire is addressed to us, but — ” he hesitated a 
moment, “perhaps you can tell us something about it.” 

6 


82 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


He gave the telegram to Eric to read. 

A gentleman will come to you with the victoria and cob. 
Do not on any account let the carriage go. I will wire fur- 
ther instructions.” 

The office from which the telegram came was Victoria ; 
there was not a word about Nessa. Eric’s heart bounded 
with a secret hope. 

“The ostler says he saw you get out of the victoria at the 
corner of the street,” said the clerk. 

“ Yes ; it has gone back to St. John’s Wood.” 

The clerk took back the telegram with a shrug and thanked 
Eric. 

“ There is no telegram for Miss Grahame? ” Eric asked. 

“None, sir. If any should come I will bring it in at 
once.” 

Nessa came down, charming in her furs. The admiration 
ill Eric’s face told her that, if her glass had failed to do so. 

“ No message has come for me yet ? ” she said, interroga- 
tively. 

“None.” 

“It is stupid to expect one until she has an address to send 
me. I may have to wait three or four hours.” She paused, 
and then added, her pretty eyes twinkling, “I am afraid I 
cannot thank you as I should 3'et a while.” 

“ When you find words to thank me I may find words to 
bid you farew’ell — not before.” That is just what she wanted 
him to say, and he said it as nicely as she could wish. 

“ We will leave both till the last moment possible. I shall 
be glad to put it off for quite a long while, for there are many 
questions that I wish to ask you, and — and I usually have 
lunch about this time.” 

Eric carried her off to an hotel, and they ate and drank 
together — Nessa showing a very pretty taste in her selection 
of dishes and wines, and they laughed and were happy, 
though each had black care close at hand. Nessa wished to 
make herself agreeable, as the only way in which she could 
express her gratitude, while Eric abandoned himself to the 
delight of the moment, and put away all gloomy thoughts 
for the gloomy hour that must come with a practical philoso- 
phy only possible to the young. An elderly stockbroker with 
a gouty toe looked at them and said to himself, “ They don’t 
know yet what trouble is.” But there was another factor in 
Eric’s happiness beyond Nessa’s eyes and Nessa’s voice, and 
the charms that made up her delightful personality. Rad- 
ford’s clerk, in recommending the hotel at which they dined, 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


83 


had promised that if an}^ telegram for Nessa came in during 
their absence, he would send it on by a messenger at once. 
Nearly two hours had passed since they left the riding-school, 
and no messenger had come. Every minute added to the 
probability that Nessa would be compelled to accept his fa- 
ther’s offer. 


CHAPTER XV. 

LOST ! 

“ I wonder if I am behaving quite decorously ? ” said Nessa, 
suddenly seized with a misgiving. “I don’t think I am, 
somehow, by the way people look at me. You must not 
think ill of me if I am not so nice as your sister ; for, you see, 
I have only left school about two months, and I have certainly 
never dined with anybody but a lady before.” 

“ How do you know my sister is nice ? ” Eric asked. 

She could not tell him that she figured his sister with his 
simple, honest face, and delicate kindness ; but her eyes be- 
trayed the thought, as she answered, with some embarrass- 
ment: 

“ Oh, I know she is sweet and amiable. You told me some- 
thing about her, and I have guessed the rest. Tell me more 
— about her, and your father, and your home.” 

Eric told of them, and their quiet lives and wholesome sur- 
roundings, with loving warmth and unpretentious pride ; 
and Nessa, listening, caught something of his glowing enthu- 
siasm. 

“Yes ; I see it all,” she said ; “ that quiet life — sweet and 
tender and pure, like an evening song.” 

Then she rested her cheek on her hand with a sigh, and sat 
silent, with sadness in her young face. 

Despite her ignorance of the world, and her confiding inno- 
cence, her mind was not at ease as she thought of Mrs. Red- 
mond and the course they were taking. She could not see 
in what w^ay she was to blame, and yet she was oppressed 
with a feeling of responsibility, which had never before 
troubled her spirit with a serious reflection. Looking on- 
ward, it seemed to her that the past was already overcast with 
the shadow of wrong-doing. 

Eric looked at his watch. 

“ What time is it ? ” she asked. 


84 : 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


** It is past three.” 

“ And no telegram has come yet ! Do j^ou think there can 
be any mistake ? ” 

“ Mrs. Redmond may have forgotten that I said you were 
going to the riding-school.” 

“You said that a true friend cannot forget.” 

“Perhaps Mrs. Redmond is not a true friend.” 

“ If no message should come for me, what shall I do ? ” she 
asked, in disma3% 

“ Tell me,” he said, eagerly, “ that then you will accept my 
father’s offer, and make a friend of my sister in the place of 
the one who forgets you.” 

“ It is too soon to say she forgets me.” 

“ Yes ; we will not be unjust. The train does not leave 
Liverpool Street until eight o’clock. I promised my father 
to meet him there. We will wait till the last moment for a 
telegram. Your friend will know that you cannot wait at the 
riding-school after a certain hour. Do not think you will be 
under obligation to us. My father is a man of business. He 
will consult the best lawyers and see that you get your in- 
heritance, and you will pay him in money for all you have 
received, and be quite indej^endent. No one will have any 
claim on you — not anyone,” he said, impressively ; and then, 
to make his meaning clear, he continued, dropping his voice, 
and speaking with some difficulty, “I must say something 
more, that you may have no cau^e to hesitate about going 
with my father and sister. I shall stay in London, and you 
will not see me for three years.” 

Had Nessa been a shallow girl or a worldly girl, she would 
have replied with a more or less graceful compliment, and 
have got out of an embarrassing position cheaply ; but she 
felt deeply, and w'as too sincere, too simple for that. She 
sat silent, looking in his face with wondering eyes, while the 
warm blood mantled in her cheek, as she put her position 
before herself in plain words to fully comprehend his mean- 
ing. 

“He loves me,” she said to herself, “more than his father, 
and sister, and home. He will banish himself from all he 
loves that I may not feel his claim upon my affection.” 

“ Think,” he urged ; “it is your life that is at stake.” 

“ Yes ; but that is not all,” she answered. “ Oh, this ques- 
tion is too grave to answer lightly or hastily. I want to be 
alone and think it over.” 

There was a ladies’ reading-room at the end of the dining 
hall He rose, and giving his arm, led her there. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


85 


“ I shall go to Finsbury, and see if anything has come. I 
will wait there until seven o’clock. If nothing has come then, 
may I hope ‘? ” 

She did not answer, but an involuntary pressure of her 
hand upon his arm told him that his wish was hers. Impa- 
tient with herself, ashamed of her silence, she stopped at the 
door and gave him her hand. 

“ You make me feel so poor,” she said ; “ I have nothing to 
give in return for your kindness — not even a few pretty 
words.” 

“ What do I want more than you are telling me now ? ” he 
asked, reading her eyes. Then he turned away, and fled from 
the temptation to profit by their tell-tale sweetness. 

In less than an hour he returned with a telegram, looking 
as if he carried his own death-warrant — as indeed it was for 
all the dearest hopes of his heart. He gave it to Nessa with- 
out a word, and waited. When she had read it, she handed 
the trembling sheet to him, her bosom swelling with a sigh. 

In the interval both had seen that if Mrs. Kedmond were 
faithful she must not be forsaken. 

Eric read : 

“ Take the next train to Brighton. You will find me in the 
waiting-room. Can do nothing till j’ou come.” 

“ There is a train at ten minutes past five,” he said, with 
a forced calm, as he returned the telegram, “ and the cab is 
at the door waiting.” 

He stepped into the hansom after her. Never had mo- 
ments fled so swiftly or been so precious to them ; yet all 
were wasted. They scarcely spoke a word between Holborii 
and Victoria. He got her ticket and put her in a compart- 
ment. 

“ The time has nearly come to thank you,” she said, forcing 
a smile, when the collector had nipped her ticket and closed 
the door. 

“ Not yet ; not yet,” he murmured, glancing at the clock in 
quick dread. 

“ We are sure to see each other again,” she said. 

He shook his head, but his quivering lips refused to speak. 

“ But, if you are not going home for three 3’ears, it is quite 
possible ” 

“ No, no — I shall never see you again,” he said, in a broken 
voice. 

“Oh!” 

And then dashing away the tears that had sprung in her 
eyes, she said ; 


86 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ But I don’t understand — you must tell me. We cannot 
part like this.” 

“I promised my father — before he would tell me your 
name, and where I might find you — that I would go back 
with him if you did not.” 

In this way he represented his promise never to see Nessa 
again unless she broke forever with Mrs. Redmond. 

“ Stand back, there ! ” cried the guard, and then he blew 
his whistle. 

The time had come for Nessa to thank him, and for him to 
say farewell. They could not speak, for the tears that choked 
them ; could not see each other, for the tears that blinded 
them. But Nessa put out both her hands with a sob, and he 
kissed them. 

The train moved on ; she saw him standing there desolate 
and broken-hearted. And thus ended Nessa’s love affair. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

CHANGE. 

When the train was out of the station, Nessa, having the 
carriage to herself, gave way to her feelings, and had a good 
cry, pouring out her heart in tears and sobs and plaintive 
little moans for Eric and herself. It was his misery that 
touched her first ; though her own position and prospects 
were not less pitiable, they only came in for the fag end of 
her sympathy. 

It did her good to cry, but she was glad to get it over and 
be done with it. 

“I shan’t be stupid again,” she said, putting her wet hand- 
kerchief away with a fluttering sigh. Nevertheless, the hand- 
kerchief came out again once or twice as a little after-shower 
of tears fell in thinking of her great loss ; for it was an im- 
mense loss to one so friendless and homeless and imperilled 
as she, those warm-hearted, generous friends who had opened 
their arms to her and offered her a safe haven of rest and 
protection. She was ashamed of those tears, and accused 
herself of ingratitude to Mrs. Redmond in regretting so much 
these unknown friends ; but she had to put the lady’s sacri- 
fices and professions in a dazzling light to blind herself to the 
fact that her own loyalty had cost her dearly. As to what it 
might yet cost her, that she dared not think about at all. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


87 


When the train stopped at Three Bridges, Nessa drew her- 
self into the further corner of the compartment to escape at- 
tention. The door opened and a gentleman got in. She 
closed her swollen eyes, feeling that they betrayed her, but 
she unclosed them with a start as something struck her skirt. 
The gentleman, standing in the middle of the carriage with 
his hand on a travelling-bag he had just put in the rack, a 
sheaf of papers in the other hand, and a rug over his arm, 
had dropped his umbrella. He apologized and picked it up. 

“I am afraid I’ve woke you up from a doze,” he said. 

“No, I was not asleep,” replied Nessa. 

“ Sleep ! I would defy anyone to do that in these car- 
riages — at this hour of the day, and at your time of life I 
May I offer you a paper to read ? ” 

Nessa took one gracefully and drew a little nearer to the 
lamp. 

The gentleman was elderly and spoke with the fatherly 
manner of a parson or a doctor. He looked like a country 
doctor, with his clean-shaven face, white tie, close-buttoned 
frock-coat, and dark gloves. When he had disposed of his 
satisfactorily, he put a pair of gold-rimmed glasses 
on his high-bridged nose, and opened a newspaper. After 
reading for a couple of minutes, he glanced up at the lamp 
and changed his position. He read again for two minutes ; 
then shifted, with another glance of vexation at the flickering 
light ; finally, after a last attempt to read, he laid the paper 
down, and took off his glasses with a sigh. 

“ Beading is an utter impossibility in these carriages — at 
any rate, with old eyes,” he said, smiling at Nessa as she laid 
down her paper. “ Happily for you, the journey to Brighton 
is not a very long one. I presume you are going to Brighton ?’* 

Nessa admitted that she was going to Brighton. 

“Not much of a place — Brighton,” the old gentleman con- 
tinued. “ No ships on the sea ; no trees on the land ; no- 
thing but shops and men and women — men and women. 
Well, after all, perhaps men and women are more interesting 
to a young lady than ships and trees— especially if that human 
pociety includes dear friends.” 

The look on Nessa’s face, as she assented to the ^proposition, 
would have told a less astute observer than this old gentle- 
man that she had no friends there whom she was eager to join. 

‘^And even without ships the sea is interesting ; don’t you 
think so ? ” asked the gentleman. 

Nessa was compelled to acknowledge that she had never 
yet seen the sea. 


88 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ You surprise me. In my 3'oung days — forty 3'ears ago — 
it was no uncommon thing for young ladies living in the 
country to stay at home ; but nowadays, with the great facil- 
ity for travelling, it is quite phenomenal to find one who has 
never seen the sea — I mean one of that class that can afford 
to travel first rank. I am almost tempted to ask 3'ou why 3’ou 
have never seen the sea ? ” 

Little as Nessa knew of men and manners, it seemed to her 
that this acquaintance was pushing inquuy to the borders 
of impertinence ; but she accounted for it on the supposition 
that he must be a doctor, and for that reason accustomed to ask- 
ing all sorts of strange questions ; so she answered him with- 
out any resentment that she had lived all her life in a school ; 
and with that took up Punch and opened it, with the hope 
that this perfect stranger would not try to pump her an}^- 
more. 

He took the hint, having perhaps learnt as much as he 
wished to know for the present, and dropping the subject, 
tried again to get through the leader. 

“ Ah, here we are at last ! ” he said cheerfully, when the 
train slackened speed. “ You will allow me to get your bag- 
gage out of the van, I hope ? ” he added, as he handed his bag 
and rug to the porter who came to the door. 

“ Thank 3^011 very much, I have no luggage,” said Nessa. 

‘‘ Well, that’s a good job. May I call you a four-wheeler or 
a hansom ? ” 

“ I have no need of a cab, thank 3’^ou.” 

“ But, my dear young lady, you cannot find 3^our way in an 
unknown town alone.” 

“I expect someone to meet me here.” 

‘‘ Oh, that is better. Then, now I have only to wish you 
‘ good-evening.’ ” He bustled off with the porter, and Nessa 
saw no more of him until she came out of the waiting-room 
with Mrs. Kedmond, whom she found there. There was no 
one on the platforai now except the old gentleman and three 
porters, who were looking carefully about upon the floor. 

“ Lost my glasses,” he explained, recognizing Nessa as he 
looked up. “Had them in the carriage, 3"ou remember. 
Cord broken ; somebody in the crowd must have filched 
them as I came up the platform. Such a lot of bad char- 
acters about here always,” he added, addressing himself to 
Mrs. Bedmond. 

Mrs. Eodmond inclined her head stiffly, her short nose lifted, 
her long lip drawn down, and hurried Nessa off. As they 
were getting into a fly, the old gentleman bustled out of the 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


89 


station with the porter g’rinning at his heels. He caught 
sight again of Nessa and came to the door. 

“Found them in my pocket,” he said, with a beaming 
smile. “ Very stu^hd of me. Good-evening. I hope to meel 
you again.” 

He took off his hat and withdrew from the door. As the 
fly moved off he glanced at the back, and, turning uj^ his 
sleeve, jotted down the number on his shirt cuff. 

Mrs. Redmond had told the flyman to drive to the Parade, 
but remembering on the way that she wanted some frilling, 
she stopped before a draper’s, and Henson’s Hotel being but 
a stone’s throw distance, she jmid the man and dismissed him. 

Nessa was surprised to find that they were to stay at a big 
hotel ; and when the lift had taken them to their rooms, she 
was still more astonished to see a silver-mounted dressing- 
case on the table, a couple of travelling boxes, and a variety 
of knicknacks and articles of clothing about the room that 
she had never seen before. 

“ Is this your room ? ” she asked. 

“ Yes. Yours is in there. The waiting-room is on the 
other side. Nice, aren’t they ? You’ll find a Gladstone with 
a few necessary things in it ; the rest you can get next week 
as you want them. What do you think of my dressing- 
case ? ” 

“It’s very pretty, but how did you get it? ” 

“ Paid for it, chummie,” replied Mrs. Redmond, dropping 
her voice. “ And a nice lot these things have cost ; but they 
wouldn’t take us in anywhere without luggage, and I came 
away from St. John’s Wood with nothing.” 

This was hardly true, for despite the haste of her departure 
she had contrived to stow away under her waterproof a great 
many unpaid-for articles of value which she had since dis- 
posed of to a private dealer in such things whose advertise- 
ment she found in a local paper. 

“ By the by,” she added, before Nessa could ask where she 
got the money to make her purchases, “ you must pick the 
name out of your linen to-night before the chambermaids get 
a chance of prying into it. What are you going to call your- 
self ? I’ve given my name as Mrs. Gaston Lascelles.” 

Nessa looked at her friend in uneasy silence. It had 
seemed to be natural and justifiable that Mrs. Redmond, in 
leaving her husband, should discard the name he had given 
her and resume her maiden name ; but this second change, 
and the change proposed for herself, frightened her, 

“ Must we go under false names ? ” 


90 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ To be sure we must, unless you want the police to be 
down on us, as they certainly would if they found our names 
in the visitors’ list. And where’s the harm ? ” 

“I don’t know ; only it seems as if we were doing some- 
thing wrong.” 

“Oh, fudge!” exclaimed Mrs. Redmond, impatiently. 
“ Lots of people change their names for no reason at all. 
The swells do it; so dp actors and authors. If any jus- 
tification is needed, necessity should be an excuse. We don’t 
want to do it ; it’s forced upon us by that villain Nichols, 
who swindled us, and that other villain, my husband, w'ho 
wants to get hold of you. Have we ever done anything 
wrong — either of us ? ” 

“ We thought we could pay, to be sure,” said Nessa, reflect- 
ively, “ and we meant to pay, and we should, if that man had 
kept his promise. No ; I do not think we have done any- 
thing wilfully dishonest.” 

“Very well, then, that settles it. Look here, Nessa ; you’ll 
have to get all this silly, squeamish nonsense out of your head. 
We’ve got to live, and we can’t live by telling everybody we’re 
a coujfle of ill-used women with not a penny in the w'orld. - 
W"e might get pity, but we shouldn’t get anything else. Peo- 
ple don’t like winning women, and steer clear of ’em as much 
as they can. We must put a bold face on it, if it’s only to 
save your life. Everyone likes a plucky little woman, and 
we shall get on well enough if we play our cards property. 
Why, look here, w'e started with nothing and we’ve wriggled 
on pretty comfortably for three months ; and there’s no 
earthly reason why we shouldn’t wriggle on comfortably for 
three years.” 

“ But we thought we should get money on my expecta- 
tions ” 

“ And so we shall. There are hundreds of money-lenders 
who’d be glad to do it, and they’re not all blackguards like 
Nichols. Oh, for Heaven’s sake ! ” she added, petulantly, 
“ don’t pull such a confounded long face. One would think 
you had all the hardships to bear. Look at me — I’ve given 
up my home, every blessed thing in the world, and I’ve lost 
that cob and victoria into the bargain. What have you lost? 
Not a farthing. You’re better dressed and you’re better off 
every way than when you ran away from school. Look 
at me ! I don’t look as if I were going to be hanged. Now 
look in that glass and tell me what sort of a nice, cheerful 
companion in misfortune you see there. I call it beastly un- 
grateful ; that I do.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


91 


“ Oh, forgive me, dear,” said Nessa ; “ indeed I am not un- 
grateful at heart. I know how much you have done for 
me. I mean to be bright and cheerful, and do my share in 
bearing the burden. But think, dear, that I am very young 
and unused to the world, and not able just yet to bear up so 
bravely as you.” 

Mrs. Eedrnond was mollified by Nessa’s humility and the 
compliment to her own strength, and forgave her with a kiss. 

“ All right, chummie ; we shall pull through if you make 
up your mind to it. Now, what name will you take ? ” 

“ Any that you think will do,” said Nessa, with a sigh of 
resignation. 

What do you say to Gladys de Vere ? ” 

“ Do you think it sounds quite like me ? ” Nessa asked, in 
a tone of doubt, for the nafne reminded her painfully of cer- 
tain cheap novelettes the girls used to smuggle into school and 
devour in secret. 

“Perhaps not ; I thought of it for myself. Viola is pretty 
and uncommon.” 

Nessa assented timidly. It was a very pretty name, she 
said. 

“Very well, then, Viola it shall be. Viola D’ something; 
it must be a D’ with an apostrophe ; D’Anvers : that will do ; 
Viola D’Anvers. Now come down and let us get some din- 
ner. I shan’t be right till I’ve had some sparkling ! ” 

In the dining-room Nessa felt the hot blood mount to the 
roots of her hair when her friend, with the loud tone and pe- 
culiar pronunciation affected by persons who wish to be 
thought better bred and better educated than they are, said, 
“ We will sit heah, Viola,” and told the waiter to see if there 
were any “lettahs for Miss D’Anvers.” It seemed to her that 
the gentlemen looking at her from the adjacent table must 
see that she had not a name like that. 

In the drawing-room, after dinner, Mrs. Redmond seated 
herself carelessly before the open piano and showed off her 
musical attainments in a piece of such painful brilliancy that 
the elderly gentlemen, after withdrawing to the remotest cor- 
ners of the room, dropped out one after the other to seek re- 
pose in the smoke-room or elsewhere. 

A couple of children were seated at a table with a book be- 
fore them, looking unnaturally serious, as children do look in 
an hotel. Nessa caught sight of them at once, and was seized 
with a yearning to make those grave little faces gay. She 
had lived all her life among children ; and herself, in ruany 
inclinations, was still a child at heart. She would have liked 


92 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


a pfood romp, for instance, or a game in which she could laugh 
without any feeling of restraint at harmless fun and innocent 
nonsense. In the new life she felt the loss of such outlets to 
natural mirth ; the fun of the theatres did not seem to her 
quite innocent, and the nonsense of society as she saw it was 
certainly not laughable. And now that the conditions of her 
existence were becoming more and more artificial, the desire 
for simplicity increased. 

She drew up a chair and seated herself between the two 
children, who welcomed her at once, she being one of those 
who win love at first sight ; and in a few minutes the little 
group was radiant with happiness. Tlie book given to the 
children to amuse themselves with was nothing but an illus- 
trated guide to all the advertising hotels in the world ; yet 
out of this dull material she go% an endless amount of fun 
and sentiment, working into her description of the bald cuts 
so many quaint conceits and pretty fancies that each in turn 
became as fascinating as a fresh chapter in a fairy story. 

“What a charming picture? ” said someone on the other 
side of the room, struck by the sweetness and vivacity in 
Nessa’s face. 

“ People always say that of my little ones,” replied the 
mother, to whom the observation was addressed, as she 
glanced complacently at the group. “Ah, they have some- 
one with them — a young lady, pretty, and, I should say, dis- 
tinguished, by her manner. Who is she, do you know ? ” 

“Not at all. A fresh visitor. She came, I believe, with 
the lady at the piano.” 

“That creature ! ” gasped the matron in alarm,, and then, 
raising her voice, “ Children, come and say good-night.” 

The children clung to Nessa. She rose and took them 
across the room, giving them up to their mother with a few 
graceful words, which were received in cold silence and replied 
to by an offensively distant bow. 

The sensitive girl smarted under this obviously intentional 
affront as though she had been struck with a whip. The 
smile and the color went out of her face ; she drew herself 
up ; her features grew rigid ; and lip and eye answered scorn 
for scorn as she turned away. But up in her room she threw 
herself on her pillow and burst into tears, asking herself what 
she had done that she should be deemed no longer fit to 
s^^eak to little children. 

At another time her pride might have borne her tearless 
through this trial ; but the event of the day, and a dull mis- 
giving as to the blamelessness of her own conduct had un- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


03 


strung her. She was herself again, however, the next morn- 
ing when she stood on the parade, looking in wonder for the 
first time on the sea. The looks of the sparkling waters, the 
pungent smell of the fresh breeze, the sound of the long, 
curling waves as they burst on the shingle, imparted their vi- 
vacity and vigor to her spuits, and she felt brave enough to 
face whatever enemy might come. She went on to the pier 
and stayed there, watching the water seethe among the col- 
umns and girders till hunger drove her back to the hotel. 

Mrs. Redmond was also in high spirits, although she had 
not been down to the sea. She had made the acquaintance of 
two or three gentlemen the preceding evening — one a de- 
lightful military man — and was resolved to take apartments 
for the season in Brighton. In the course of the morning 
they found a suit of rooms on the parade to be let at the 
absurdly low price af ten guineas a week. 

“ Do you think they will do, dear ! ” Mrs. Redmond asked. 

Nessa thought that nothing in the world could be pleas- 
anter than to live where one could always see the sea and 
watch the streams of carriages and people on the parade. 

“ Very well, then ; it is understood,” said Mrs. Redmond to 
the highly respectable widow who let the apartments ; “ w'e 
take these rooms for the season at ten guineas a week. If we 
do not come in to-night, w’e shall come in on Monday. And 
now, Viola, dear, w'e shall go and lunch at the Royal.” 

The ladies did not come in that night, nor did they make 
their apjDearance on Monday morning, and for this simple 
reason, on Monday morning they were seeking apartments in 
Spital Square, London. 


CHAPTER XVH. 

A WARNING. 

It came about in this way : Mrs. Redmond would not stir 
out of the hotel on Sunday, because it was “ bad form ” in 
view of the vulgar herd of Saturday-to-Mondayers, who 
swarmed everywhere and made the place unbearable ; so 
Nessa, who was less fastidious, and indeed rather preferred 
to see a lot of people enjoying themselves, to the silent few 
looking as if tlieir lives were a burden to them, went out 
alone in the afternoon. She had made up her mind the day 


94 : 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


before that she must go to the top of those white cliffs, and 
see how the sea looked bursting on the rocks below. 

She stepped out briskly, and following the parade, passed 
the squalid houses and the gas-works, and at last found her- 
self on the cliff, with nothing before, her but the Downs and 
the sky and the sea. But just as she was beginning to feel 
that i^roper sense of awe and solitude which one ought to 
feel in the grand aspect of Nature, she became conscious that 
she was being followed by that pest of society — the enamored 
young man — who will track unprotected young ladies into 
solitary places if he can, and make himself disagreeable when 
he may do so with tolerable immunity. 

From the corner of her eye, as she looked over the sea, 
Nessa perceived that he was youthful and scrubby, with the 
appearance of a junior clerk or a draper’s assistant. She 
walked on until she felt sure that he was keeping pace wuth 
her, and then did what, perhaps, it is best for a young lady 
to do in such a situation ; she stopped and faced him. 

When he took off his very shiny silk hat to her, she 
looked him calmly in the face, without moving a muscle. 
She knew the animal and his ways, and was prepared to 
make him utterly ashamed of himself. 

But when, still holding his hat in his hand, he said, very 
humbly, “ I beg your pardon. Miss Grahame : I have ven- 
tured to follow you here because I have something to say to 
you that I could not say elsewhere,” she perceived that she 
had done the young man an injustice. She had a faint recol- 
lection of having seen this Jewish face before, and the recol- 
lection was strengthened by the sound of his voice and his 
painful embarrassment. His earnestness alarmed her, and 
she waited, breathless, to know what he had to tell her. 

“ You don’t remember me,” he continued, hurriedly. “Of 
course, you w’ouldn’t notice anyone so far beneath you ; but 
I have — have taken the deepest interest in you from the first 
moment you came into our office, and — and I am proud to 
think I have already rendered 3'ou some service, although I 
dare say you are not aware of it. My name is Levy, and I 
am a clerk to old — to Mr. Nichols, the money-lender, Fins- 
bury Pavement.” 

“ I remember you now. Pray put your hat on, Mr. Levy.” 

Nessa would have liked him to wipe the perspiration from 
his face with the gorgeous handkerchief that displayed a 
corner from his breast-pocket, and would have felt much easier 
if he had taken a less servile attitude. 

She walked on slowly, to give him confidence, and then said, 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


95 


“May I ask liow I am indebted to you?” 

“ Oh, please don’t think you are indebted to me ; it’s all 
the other way. In serving you I have found a pleasure that 
money couldn’t buy ; ’pon my word, I have ; and, if you be- 
lieve me, I should quite glory in it if old Nichols found out 
what I am at now, and told me next Friday that he shouldn’t 
require my services any more.” 

“Will you tell me what you are at? ’’said Nessa, with a 
touch of humor in her voice. 

“ I’ll tell you. Miss Grahame, as clear as I can, and as 
short as possible, for there’s no time to lose. And what I 
tell you is correct, for I’ve thought it over night and day, and 
made inquiries here, there, and everywhere, and come at the 
truth all round. You know Griffiths ? ” 

“ No, I do not.” 

“You know what has been going on this last week or 
two ? ” 

“A great deal is quite unintelligible to me.” 

“ I’ll try and make it intelligible, miss. If jmu live till 
you are twenty-one, you will come into a big fortune ; if you 
die before then, it will go to Mr. Redmond. You know 
that.” 

“Yes.” 

“ You have insured your life for five thousand pounds, and 
handed over the policy to old Nichols ; and if you die before 
you have the money to redeem that policy, he’ll get the five 
thousand out of the insurance company — you see ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Now, Redmond is a villain, and my governor’s another. 
The two have got one object — to take your life before you are 
twenty-one. They are hand and glove one with the other. 
They’re working together, and the governor is paying the 
exes. — the cash, I mean ; and if money and villainy together 
can do it, you will be — I can’t look at you, miss, and say it ; 
but you can see by the look of my face what I mean.” 

“ They will kill me ! Oh, I can hardly believe that.” 

“But, pardon me, miss, you must believe it. You can 
read in the paper cases enough as mercenary and wicked as 
this. You’ve had a proof of Redmond’s villainy ; my gov- 
ernor is equal to anything where there’s money to be made. 
It’s all business to him.” 

“Yes, yes ! ” Nessa assented, turning round in apprehen- 
sion at the sound of wheels behind them. 

“You needn’t be afraid, miss. No one will lay a hand on 
you to-day, being Sunday. While the governor is engaged 


96 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


in the business there’ll be no violence committed, you may 
depend on it. All will be done legally.” $ 

“ What can be done legally that I need fear ? ” 

“ Ob, a lot. In the first place, they’ll send Mrs. Redmond 
to quod — I mean prison — for getting goods under false pre- 
tences, and pawning things that are not hers to pawn. Well, 
that wall be no harm to you. But, at the same time, they 
will prove that you are of unsound mind, and either put you 
into a lunatic asylum, or hand you over to the keeping of Mr. 
Redmond. That is sure. I know the two rascally doctors 
that they have already engaged to prove that you are insane, 
and you saw one of them on Friday.” 

‘‘I?” 

“The old gentleman who got into the train at Three 
Bridges. Perhaps you caught sight of him yesterday.” 

“No ; I have not seen him since the day I came here.” 

“ He has seen you, though. Saw j'ou and Mrs. Redmond 
come out of Mutton’s and follo^ved you to Randal’s Hotel 
Found you were staying there. Meanwhile the regular ’tec 
wdio is hunting with him discovered that Mrs. Redmond 
had raised money on some silver which she got from a 
house in Bond Street three weeks ago, on credit, in your 
name.” 

“ We intended to pay for it when Mr. Nichols paid us the 
money he promised.” 

“ Yes ; but Mrs. Redmond pawned it when she knew there 
was no prospect of her getting the mone}". Anyway, she’ll 
be sent to gaol when it comes to be tried. I don’t want to 
say anything against a friend of yours, miss, but ” 

“ Please don’t,” Nessa broke out ; “ everyone misunder- 
stands her : only I know that she is good and generous.” 

“Well, I’ll say nothing more about her if you tell me not 
to. But I was going to ask you to leave her as the best 
means of saving yourself.” 

“ Oh, I will not leave her. I have said so already.” 

“ Yes, I know you have. That young fellow has gone back 
to Denmark. P’raps you don’t know that the price he paid 
for learning where to find you and how to save you w^as a 
promise to his father that he would never see you again un- 
less you separated from Mrs. Redmond for good and all. He 
kept his word. He’s gone.” 

Nessa bent her head, struggling to keep back the tears, 
biting her trembling lip, striving to gulp down the some- 
thing in her throat that seemed to choke her. She had only 
half-realized the young Dane’s chivalrous sacrifice, and in her 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 97 

heart fostered the hope that they should meet again. Now 
she was sure that she should never see him more. 

“ Griffiths told me that, having it from old Petersen. He 
was a fine young fellow that ! But it’s a pity he wasn’t a little 
more fly : more on his guard, I mean. You see, when he 
sent the carriage back, the 'tecs — the police, you understand 
— got at the driver and found out where he had left young 
Petersen. They reckoned he’d gone to see after you, learnt 
from the clerk at Dyer’s that you had gone to the Holborn ; 
wired the governor, who immediately sent Pierce and Dr. 
Kenwyth — the old gentleman you met in the train — to fol- 
low you from the Holborn. That’s how you got blown — I 
mean discovered — so quick. However, that is no great gain 
on their side. You must have been found in a fortnight or 
so if they had lost the scent altogether, with Mrs. Kedmond 
playing the fool. You must excuse me, miss, for I can’t help 
saying that she is playing the fool to go on in this style. 
She’s continually courting attention and setting the police on 
the watch. Here she is, carrying on the same rig she ran in 
London, and that before she’s been in the place half a day. 
What has she done to escape detection ? Changed her name, 
as if even a policeman were to be blinded by such a dodge. 
Changed her name : nothing more ! Why, she hasn’t even 
dyed her hair. She hasn’t altered her style of dress — noth- 
ing. It’s just like that sort of women ; they’re as reckless as 
the dev — as anything. I know ’em.” 

“ Know whom ? ” Nessa asked in trepidation. 

“ Why the pros, you know. She was a pro. Began in the 
music-halls and took parts in the pantomimes. I thought I 
knew her the first time I saw her. She played Prince Pop’- 
pet at the Transpontine, and then took to horse-riding at 
Hangers’. They’ve got no idea beyond the present moment. 
^Oh, it’ll all come right at night:’ that’s their motto. They 
take a jump at a thing without seeing what’s on the other 
side ; just as she used to jump at those papered hoops, 
trusting to come down all right on the horse’s back when 
she’s through it. Mind you, miss, I don’t say she’s not a 
good woman just because she’s been a pro ; though I never 
can think she’s a proper friend for you. Many of ’em are as 
good as gold ; warm-hearted and generous and all that kind 
of thing. But they are so very impulsive, and they won’t 
calculate consequences in a business-like way. While they’ve 
got money they’ll chuck it about anywhere. I’ll be bound 
Mrs. Kedmond has blued— spent best part of what she got on 
Friday, warrant she hasn’t five pounds in her purse, and is 
7 


98 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


setting her mind on getting something to-morrow that will 
cost ten. Now how’s a woman to escape notice going on like 
that, and how are you to escape while you stick to her ? You 
might just as well go about with your name on your back for 
everyone to read and talk about. That is why,” he contin- 
ued, returning to his humbler tone, “ I would again venture 
to suggest that you should separate — for a time, say. And 
you may take it. Miss Grahame, that it’s as much for her ad- 
vantage as yours. For the governor and Redmond won’t 
bother themselves about her, or spend a farthing in bringing 
her to justice, except as a means of getting you into their 
hands. Do you follow me, miss ? ” 

“ Yes ; I think I understand you.” 

“Who’s paying the 'tecs to hunt down Mrs. Redmond ? Her 
husband and my governor. Well, the moment they cease to 
pay, the ’tecs will jack up — I mean throw up the job, and 
Mrs. Redmond will be as safe out of this scrape as if she were 
the Queen of England. If you part, you will save her from 
going to gaol. If you don’t part, and she keeps on as she is 
going now, she will get three years as sure as she’s alive and 
you — No, I cannot think of that.” 

“ Surely it is not so bad as you imagine. Cannot I appeal 
to a magistrate, telling him everything that concerns myself, 
without reserve ? ” 

“ What could a magistrate do ? At the best he might ad- 
vise you to consult an able solicitor — supposing that he be- 
lieved your story. Well, suppose you act on his advice and 
go to a good solicitor. The first question he would put when 
he had heard you out would be what means you have for 
moving the courts. What have you? Nothing. He could 
only shrug his shoulders and recommend you to try some 
one else.” 

“ But could we ;iot raise money ” 

Mr. Levy stopped her. “ For Heaven’s sake, keep clear of 
money-lenders!” he exclaimed. “ Nichols is no worse than 
the rest, and a great deal better than some. Not one amongst 
’em would dream of advancing money before making inqui- 
ries, and who would lend a penny when it is found you are 
in danger of being put into a lunatic asylum or your es- 
tate thrown into Chancery ? Inquiry of any sort must end 
in Redmond discovering your whereabouts and getting you 
into his hands. ” 

“Then what am I to do?” Nessa asked in despair, stop- 
ping dead short, and facing the young man. 

“ Go back to London by the next train. It is the safest 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


99 


place in England for you if you are alor ^ and only take tlie 
simplest precautions.” 

“I have no money : not enough to take me to London : no 
means of getting any when I am there.” 

“ Miss Grahame, will you allow me to offer you what I 
have, as a loan, which you may repay me when you have the 
means? And please do not misunderstand my intentions — 
I — I — shall not intrude upon you ; I will not even ask you to 
let me accompany you to London. I would not even suggest 
which part of London it would be most advisable for you to 
live in (though I must warn you against the North and West 
End), for fear you might suspect me of a wish to take ad- 
vantage of your position. We will part here, and I will walk 
on to Kottingdean while you go to the station, if you will 
only consent to take this.” 

Exalted by true gentlemanly feeling Mr. Levy spoke like 
a gentleman, and looked like one, despite his particularly 
Sunday get-up. As he concluded, he offered a very new 
purse, which looked as if it had been bought for the occasion. 

“Oh, I cannot accept that,” Nessa replied with dignity 
tempered by warm recognition ; “ though indeed, indeed I 
thank you with all my heart for your kindness and gener- 
osit3^ I can never forget what you have just said to me. Be- 
sides,” she added, after a moment’s pause, “I must warn 
Mrs. Redmond of her danger.” 

“ I will undertake to do that. Men are watching the place 
to-day. If they see you leave the house together you will 
surely be followed.” 

“Now what am I to do?” Nessa asked herself, seeking 
earnestly to find the right course by the light of conscience. 
After brief reflection it appeared to her. 

“ I must go back to my friend, Mr. Levy. I feel that it is 
my duty to do so,” she said. The young man remonstrated 
feebly, but she was firm now that she felt she was doing 
right ; he held her in such reverence that he then gave up 
the attempt to dissuade her from her purpose. 


100 


BETWEEI^ LIFE AND DEATH, 


f 

CHAPTER XVin. 

A NEW OPENING. 

Like other shallow persons who think themselves deep, 
and who are headstrong and reckless while confident in their 
own security, Mrs. Redmond was helpless and panic-stricken 
in the presence of disaster. She listened wuth growing dis- 
may as Nessa related clearly and truly all that had passed 
between herself and Mr. Levy, and sat speechless with fright 
for a minute or two when all w’as told. 

“ He said they could send me to prison for three years ! ” 
she gasped at length. 

“ Unless you separate yourself from me ; in that case you 
would be perfectly safe from any further pursuit.” 

“Then that is what I must do. I will go by the next 
train. Ring the bell ; I must have a brandy and soda. 
Order a fly. "Where’s my bag ? Get those things out of the 
next room.” 

“ We must take nothing away from here. Nothing be- 
longs to us. And — ” seeing that the old discussion w'as 
likely to recommence and that a more powerful argument 
was necessary — “I believe that the man over there at the 
corner is one of the detectives who are watching us.” 

Mrs. Redmond, looking through the blinds, declared she 
recognized him as one of the men whom she had evaded at 
St. John’s Wood. Then in the fury of impotence she turned 
upon Nessa and burst out into a torrent of silly regrets and 
unjust reproaches — wishing she had never been born, that 
she had never seen Nessa, that she had never left her hus- 
band, and accusing Nessa of being the cause of her ruin ; 
finall}", having exhausted her passion, she burst into, tears. 

Nessa waited calmly till the storm was past, and then said, 
quietly : 

“ Your position cannot be worse than it was at Grahame 
Towers. It may be very much better. You have nothing to 
fear when you leave me, and with your theatrical ability 
you can obtain an engagement wherever you please, I dare- 
say.” 

“Then what would you advise me to do, dear?” asked 
Mrs. Redmond, humbly, between a couple of sniffs, recogniz- 
ing the girl’s superior strength by her self-command. 

“ Leave me here. While one remains in the hotel the men 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


101 


will not leave it. Take the train after lunch, when you feel 
more composed. 

“ And you will send on the things to London to-morrow— 
to be left till called for ? ” 

“ No. I shall go away to-night, and I shall take nothing 
with me.” 

“But I haven’t got anything. Here’s only three sove- 
reigns ! ” she exclaimed in despair, opening her porte-mon- 
naie. 

“ I must ask you to lend me one to take me to London.” 

“ You can get up for four and sixpence. ” 

“ Then give me four and sixpence,” said Nessa, quietly, 
trying to overcome the feeling of shame in asking this last 
favor. 

Lunch and a liberal dose of brandy and soda restored a 
little courage to Mrs. Redmond ; and with courage the gam- 
bler’s hope of recovering losses and winning fortune returned. 
She had sense enough to know that the day for making a 
great hit by her personal charms was past, and that thirty 
shillings a week was about the market value of her “ theatri- 
cal ability,” as Nessa called it. No ; if ever she %vas again to 
live in luxury, it could only be through Nessa, and so with 
growing recklessness she at length resolved that, come what 
might, she would not lose sight of the girk 

“ Chummy,” she said, in the genial tone adopted in her 
most amiable moments, “I’ve made up my mind to stick to 
you. Don’t mind what I said this morning. When we’re 
upset we say anything. I have stuck to you from the begin- 
ning, and I’ll stick to you to the end. I know how we’ll do 
’em to-night. You leave it to me. We’ve done ’em before, 
and we’ll do ’em again. I’m not going to abandon yon. 
Wh3% you’d be in the workhouse or the hospital before the 
end of the week. We can live cheaply — two chumming to- 
gether, almost as cheaply as one. And we’ll go on the 
Q. T.” 

“What is that?” asked Nessa, with a vague idea of ocean 
steamers. 

“ Why, the strict quiet, you little mug ! ” Mrs. Redmond 
had already abandoned Brighton in imagination and dropped 
instantly into the slang of that profession she began to see 
must be returned to for a time. 

“ Mr. Levy counselled that strongly.” 

“ Oh, you’ll find me as fly as he is now. I’m up to the 
ropes. I know the very pitch for us : Shoreditch — that’ll 
queer ’em.” 


102 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Nessa said nothing, but she thought her friend had taken 
rather too much brandy, which was not improbable. 

‘‘What are you thinking about, chummy? You look pre- 
cious glum. Oh, I know — you think I must be a precious 
juggins to stick to you with the chance of being lagged for 
my pains. Well, I daresay I am a fool ; but, hang it, I won’t 
have it said that I turned my back on a chum in trouble.” 

Perhaps Nessa was thinking that her own life was jeopard- 
ized by this adherence, but she kept the reflection to herself ; 
and in accepting this new lease of companionship, made no 
boast of her own generosity. 

When all the bells in Brighton were clanging in hideous 
discord, and the streets were crowding with people on their 
way to church, Mrs. Bedmond and Nessa left the hotel. At 
the last moment Mrs. Bedmond had borrowed a Church Ser- 
vice, and this she earned ostentatiously before her, to poor 
Nessa’s shrinking shame. At the corner of the street they 
parted — Nessa going toward the pier and Mrs. Bedmond to 
the nearest church. The spies, who had no reason to suspect 
anything, were completely thrown off their guard by this ruse, 
and gave up work for the day. At 10.15 Mrs. Bedmond 
stepped out of the train at London Bridge and there met 
Nessa, who had arrived by the preceding train. Their dress 
in that part of the town was conspicuously lady-like ; they 
had not a vestige of luggage, and very little money ; of neces- 
sity, therefo)’^, they had to seek refuge for the night in a 
place where no questions are asked. Close by the station 
they found a nondescript house of entertainment, something 
between a coffee-shop and tavern, where a slatternly woman, 
without demur, led them up two flights of uncarpeted and 
dirty stairs, and showing them into a double-bedded room, 
set down the candle with a yawn, and asked Mrs. Bedmond 
for half a crown, as it was the custom of the house for lodg- 
ers to pay over night. Nessa had never been in such a room 
before, and looked round in shuddering disgust at the yellow 
linen of the beds, the greasy slips of carpet on the dark floor, 
the frowsy stuffed chairs, the chipped toilet service, and the 
walls that seemed to have imbibed yellow fog of many years 
from the river. The atmosphere was redolent of all the 
rancid smells of Tooley Street, with a whiff of fried bacon 
and herring from below supe^added. Mi's. Bedmond seemed 
to take these discomforts as a matter of course, and even 
showed herself acquainted with damaged door-fastenings by 
tilting a chair and wedging the back of it under the knob of 
the handle. Her indifference surprised Nessa, for hitherto 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


103 


she had shown herself distressingly particular in the proper 
appointment of her room, and would have her bed re-made if 
the sheets were not folded to her liking. 

However, this experience prepared Nessa for what was to 
come, and she had less hesitation in agreeing that the lodg- 
ings they found the next morning in Spital Square would do 
when she thought of the horrible room in which she had 
passed that miserable sleepless night. The Square was quiet ; 
the house looked respectable. There was a silk warehouse on 
the ground floor ; their three rooms were neatly furnished ; 
the linen was fairly white and clean, though Nessa could 
never accustom herself to unconsciousness of the acrid, smoky 
smell peculiar to sheets and curtains and blinds in the 
City. 

The housekeeper who let the rooms undertook to come in 
for an hour every morning to light the fire and to do the 
rough work ; for the rest of the day the ladies had to wait 
upon themselves. On Monday evening Mrs. Kedmond de- 
clared herself so delighted with Nessa’s performance as a 
housewife that she should henceforth leave all the domestic 
arrangements to her. This gave Nessa plenty to do. But 
that did not displease her at all. She was glad of the occu- 
pation, not only as a mental distraction, but as a means of 
lessening her obligation to Mrs. Redmond. But she knew 
nothing of cooking, and some of her first experiments were 
terrible failures. These failures were the subject of much 
silly sarcasm on the part of Mrs. Redmond ; but her banter 
was less hard to endure than the gloomy silence wdth w'hich 
she regarded an underdone pudding or an overdone chop after 
a few days. That was trying ! Besides cooking and washing- 
up, Nessa found it necessary to provide herself with a change 
of clothes, and, with a view to economy, she bought some 
stuff with a few shillings grudgingly lent her by Mrs. Red- 
mond, and did her best to cut it and make it up ; though 
this was experimental work to her, thanks to our modern 
system of educating girls, she came in for plenty of ill-natured 
chaff over that, poor girl ! 

Mrs. Redmond herself did nothing except read penny 
papers, and yawn at the window. She bought her things 
ready made, and when the last shilling was gone hinted that 
Nessa’s muddling extravagance would ruin them. 

As credit was not to be got in Spitalfields, and food was an 
absolute necessity, Mrs. Redmond took a ’bus to Old Ford on 
Saturday morning, pawned some trinkets there, and returned 
jubilant with two pounds ten. She was always at her best 


104 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


when she had money to spend, and before she had drawn off 
her gloves, she said ; 

“ Chummy, well go to a show to-night.” 

Nessa was human — that is to say, not over wise — and after 
being cooped up indoors for the best part of a week, and 
enduring a great many little miseries in silence, the idea of a 
long evening in a theatre set the blood dancing in her veins. 
Still, she made an effort to be reasonable, and suggested that 
they ought to save their money. 

“ Oh, bother ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Hedmond, “ what a wet 
blanket you are. AVhy can’t you be jolly when you’ve got 
the chance? What’s the good of meeting misfortunes half 
way? It’s bound to come all right in the end.” 

Nessa yielded ; and so, in the evening they went to Arca- 
dia, where the International Hippodrome had just opened 
their season — Mrs. Redmond taking a hansom from Norton 
Folgate, after buying a new pair of gloves for the occasion. 

In the entrance lobby Mrs. Redmond recognized a gentle- 
man in evening dress as an old friend. 

“Jimmus!” she said, laying her hand on his arm famil- 
iarly. . 

“ Hallo, Totty ! ” he returned, recognizing her, and shaking 
her hand warmly. “ Shouldn’t have known you in that wig.” 

Mrs. Redmond had profited by the hint of Mr. Levy, and 
changed her hair dye to the chestnut tint then just coming 
into fashion. 

“ What do you do here ?” 

‘‘ Come to see the gee-gees. My friend, Miss Lancaster — 
Mr. James Fergus,” she said, introducing Nessa, to whom she 
had given this new name. 

Mr. Fergus raised his hat to Nessa and replaced it with the 
regulation tilt, and shook hands with a lengthened look of ad- 
miration. 

“What are you doing here, Jimmus ?” asked Mrs. Red- 
mond. 

“ Bossing the show for Duprez.” 

“ Delighted to hear it. Any opening for an old chum ? ” 

“Well,” said Mr. Fergus with deliberation, casting another 
admiring glance on Nessa, who clearly occupied his thoughts 
more than the “ old chum ” — “ might find something. Are 
you in the line, Miss Lancaster?” 

Mrs. Redmond answered for Nessa, who looked perplexed 
by the question. 

“ Oh, we’re both on,” said she. “No trunks, business. 
Haute eoolej you know.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


105 


“ Bit busy in the front just now. But I’ll come round and 
see you presently. Where will you go — stalls or a box ? ” 

“ A box, of course. You don’t think we’re going in with 
the cattle.” 

Mr. Fergus went to the pay place, and gave them a pass, 
repeating his assurance that he would come and look them up 
when the front was clear, and raising his hat again. 

As they followed the attendant through the corridor, Mrs. 
Bedrnond whispered 

“ It’s all right, chummy ! The trick’s done. We shall be 
in this show next week as safe as houses ! ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

BUSINESS. 

“I don’t quite understand,” said Nessa, when they were 
alone in the box, and Mrs. Redmond had disposed herself 
where she could be seen to advantage. “What did you 
mean when you said we should be in this show ? ” 

“Mean! Why, that if you don’t muff it, we shall get an 
engagement here.” 

Nessa looked round. the thronged building. The overture 
was being played. Ring after ring of gas-jets sprang into 
flame. The electric light glared out of the great white glasses. 
At the thought that she might be one of those all these peo- 
ple had come to see, that this music was to herald her, and 
this light to illuminate her, the young girl felt her heart 
bound, and her hair crisp, and a thrill in every nerve of her 
body. 

“ Timmus is a good sort,” Mrs. Redmond explained, in a 
voice that seemed coldly emotionless to Nessa’s tingling ears. 
“He was sweet on me before I was fool enough to marry ; 
and if he can get me back on the tan, he will ; but I’m not 
going to make myself cheap. If he wants me, he’ll have to 
take you as well. We’ll go in a pair, chummy — four quid a 
week. That’ll do us, won’t it ? ” 

She had not failed to see the manager’s admiring glances 
at Nessa, and was shrewd enough to know that her own en- 
gagement was more dependent upon Nessa’s influence than 
Nessa’s engagement upon hers ; but, as she had said, she 
would not make herself cheap. 


lOG 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“Oh, I shall pull you through,” she added ; “you leave it 
all to me, mind.” 

“ But I know nothing about this business,” Nessa said. 

“ You needn’t let out. You can sit a horse ; that’s good 
enough.” 

The company had entered in procession, and were parad- 
ing the long elliptical arena, 

“I should not have to appear like that?” Nessa said, in- 
terrogatively, indicating a group of girls dressed as Bacchan- 
als, with a liberal allowance of fleshings. 

“Didn’t you hear me tell him no trunks ? No ; that’s our 
sort.” 

And she nodded to a row of six girls in riding-habit on 
beautiful mounts. 

Nessa gave a little sigh of relief. “ They do the race steeple- 
chase business,” Mrs. liedmond continued, pointing out the 
numbers in the programme. 

“ How could I do that ? ” Nessa asked. “ I’ve never jumped 
anything.” 

“Oh, it’s easy enough. The jumps are all faked. I could 
do ’em on my head.” 

“ Could you ? ” asked Nessa, naively, looking at her stout 
companion, and taking her words literally. 

She watched the races with keen interest and growing ex- 
citement. It woke up the old daring and adventurous spirit 
that had led her into mischief at school. She felt that if she 
were in the race she would set her horse at anything, and 
make it win by the sheer force of her own will. In the last 
race she figured herself on the leading horse ; her hand turn- 
ing instinctively as if she felt the reins ; her shoulders braced, 
her features set, and her eyes flashing with indomitable 
pluck. She was quite unconscious that Mr. Fergus had come 
into the box, and was sitting not a yard from her, listeniog 
to Mrs. Kedmond, but with his shrewd, business eye fixed 
under the tilted brim of his “ gibus ” upon herself. 

“You’d beat ’em, wouldn’t you, Miss Dancaster?” he said, 
as the race ended and Nessa’s body relaxed. 

“I wouldn’t be left behind by that girl with the orange 
ribbon.” 

“ You shall have the opportunity of beating her as soon as 
you like to try. Come and see the nags.” 

As he rose to open the door, Mrs. Redmond winked with 
significant satisfaction at Nessa behind his back. 

They went down the long double row of stalls, each oc- 
cupied by a sleek horse, his name on an enamelled plate 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 107 

upon the wall beyond. Nessa, who loved horses, was in 
ecstasies. 

“ There’s the flower of the flock,” said Fergus, stopping — 
“Esperance ! How are you, beauty?” 

“I wouldn’t trust her with any girl in the show,” he con- 
tinued, in his deliberate tone, as Nessa caressed the beauti- 
fujl creature’s head. “But I shall consider myself no judge 
of horsewomen if you don’t saddle her before you’ve been in 
the show a month.” 

At that moment a burst of music from the arena within 
seemed to proclaim that future triumph which the manager 
augured for Nessa, and she trembled with such elation as she 
had never before experienced. 

“ May as well have it down on paper, chappie,” said Mrs. 
Kedmond. 

“ We’ll go into the office, and settle it at once, if Miss Dan- 
caster pleases.” 

Nessa assented ; and they went into an office where there 
were a table, two chairs, and a marvellous litter of pictures, 
programmes, photograplis, lithographs, tinted designs of cos- 
tume, specimen properties, letter clips, bill files, and soda- 
water bottles. Mr. Fergus offered the chairs to the ladies. 
Mrs. Bedmond preferred to sit down on the corner of the 
table, allowing the manager to avail himself of the odd chair 
and seat himself before his blotting pad. Then came a 
discussion as to the terms of the agreement, which was for 
the most part incomprehensible to Nessa. There were so 
many words unknown to her, and her head was all of a whirl 
at the strangeness of everything about her, and the bewilder- 
ing prospect opening before her. However, Mrs. Redmond, 
now that she was in the element to which she had been born, 
showed herself as shrewd and clear-headed as Fergus him- 
self, and got her own way in all the stipulations with regard 
to dresses, dressing-room, “extra shows,” and the like. She 
signed the agreement for herself and Nessa, which was a relief 
to the girl, who was in doubt as to what her Christian name 
was to be, and took charge of the counterpart signed by the 
manager. 

“I shall be here on Monday morning, and will put you 
through your business,” Fergus said, kindly, when they were 
parting at the refreshment bar. 

“You are very kind,” replied Nessa ; and then conscious 
of her own silence and embarrassment, she added, “lam 
afraid you must think me very stupid.” 

“ iNIy dear Miss Daucaster, I should not have engaged you 


108 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


at sight if I had thought you stupid. And,” he added, drop- 
ping his voice, as Mrs. Eedrnond turned to finish her brandy 
and soda, “I certainly should not have taken Totty in again 
if I had not felt quite sure that you will compensate for all 
the trouble she’ll give us.” 

It occurred to Nessa the next day, and not before, that this 
engagement would expose them to discovery by the men who 
were seeking them. But Mrs. Kedmond, who had now got 
over her fright, ridiculed the suggestion. 

“ What a croaking little coward you are ! ” she said, con- 
temptuously. “ It’s the last place in the world where anyone 
w’ould go to look for us ; and the chance of being spotted by 
accident is just as great as if we only walked through Bish- 
opsgate Street once a day. I can’t afford to keep you with 
nothing coming in, you know. We must do something. I 
do call it ungrateful. Besides, who’s going to spot us ; and 
how are we to be spotted? Do you think they’re going into 
two-guinea boxes to pick us out of the crow'd with opera 
glasses ? The only place they’re likely to go is the shilling 
gallery, and there I’d defy anyone to recognize even me. 
But I suppose you think because Timmus soaped you down, 
that you are going to have all the house to yourself. You 
can just undeceive yourself, my dear; you’ll go into the 
crowd, and be no more noticed than one pin in a packet. As 
for that, I don’t believe anyone is after us, unless it’s your 
friend, Mr. Levy. I consider that business was a clear loss to 
me of twenty pounds — running away, like a pair of fools, for 
nothing at all.” 

Nessa said no more upon the subject ; indeed, she ceased 
to think of it, and all sense of danger went from her in the 
life of excitement she entered upon the next day. On Mon- 
day morning she went to her first rehearsal, and passed 
through a series of surprises. At the entrance she was greeted 
with a familiar, “How d’ye do, dear?” by a very ordinary- 
looking little man in gaiters, and absurdly short jacket, and a 
deer-stalker. It was only when she had looked him full in the 
face, indignant at this unceremonious overture, that she re- 
cognized him as Mr. Fergiis. The stablemen, all in the livery 
at night, were now as rough and dirty as country inn ostlers. 
Horses were being groomed, barrows of litter stopped the 
gangway, the passages were swilled with water, and there 
was a confused noise of buckets shifting, hoofs rattling, water 
running, brooms sweeping, the eternal hissing of grooms, 
whistling, and sundry rough objurgations. 

“Your dressing-room is number six. There it is,” said 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


109 


Mr. Fergus, who had taken charge of Nessa, leaving Mrs. 
Kedmond with an old friend recognized among the pallid 
crowd of loafers in the entrance lobby. “Better take off 
your jacket and hat. Ill go and find a tile and a skit.” 

Nessa went into the large dressing-room, removed her 
jacket, and was lost in wonder at the assortment of fards and 
powders on the tables, when Fergus returned with a skirt and 
riding-hat, coming into the room without the shghtest for- 
mality. Then they went down into the amphitheatre, which 
looked a vast place and dull in the thin mist through which 
the gray light of day filtered from above. The mist was 
thicker where the sweepers were at work in the auditorium. 
There was a carpenter at work somewhere, his hammer 
seemed to wake a dozen echoes. A peal of laughter came 
from another part. Three men were in the orchestra, and 
one was running through the dance from “ Dinorah.” In the 
ring six or seven men and women, in ordinary dress and 
mounted, stood in groups chatting. 

“ Why don’t you begin that cotillion ? What are you 
waiting for, Jennings ? ” called Mr. Fergus. 

“ Set ain’t complete, sir ; waiting for Madame de Vere.^* 
(This was the latest name adopted by Mrs. Redmond.) 

“ She’s begun already,” muttered Fergus. Then calling a 
man who was raking the tan, he sent him with a peremptory 
message to Mrs. Redmond, and told him to bring Slignon and 
Venturlex’e from the stalls. 

“Have you known Totty long?” he asked, turning to 
Nessa. 

“ No ; not a very long while.” 

“ Ah, I have. Probably I know a good deal more about her 
than you do ; so perhaps I ought to tell you that she’s a dan- 
gerous woman. You’re bound to live with her, I suppose ? ” 

“I am under great obligation to her,” said Nessa, warmly. 
“ I can never repay her for all she has done for me.” 

“ I’m sorry for you, dear. She’ll never leave you till she’s 
repaid herself and cleared off the obligation.” 

Nessa felt a miserable sinking at her heart. For some days 
she had struggled against the evidence of her senses to be- 
lieve that her friend was honest and good and generous ; just 
as she had striven at times to continue a pleasant dream in 
si^ite of awaking consciousness that the vision was unreal ; 
and now the accumulating evidence was too strong to be ig- 
nored, and Mrs. Redmond’s character looked as dull and ar- 
tificial as the hippodrome itself appeared by the light of day. 
A good many illusions .had been dispelled in this last half- 


110 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


hour, and she felt that things and people must be judged by 
the light of I’easou rather than by the glamour of inclination. 
But the material view was very depressing to her young 
mind. 

The first trot round the arena, however, set her blood in 
motion and revived her spirits. Fergus kept by her side, 
coaching her as they went. 

“ Look at the audience when you’re trotting. That will be 
your mount for the first week or so ; tidy old mare, safe and 
sure, and knows her business. Rein a bit looser : that’s it. 
The starting place is down there by that barrow. Give her 
a cut and let her go when we come there. Bo three turns 
as hard as you like, but mind you take the inside at the top 
of the lap and the outside at the bottom. Make your speed 
in between : now then, off ! ” 

It was a glorious run. Nessa’s excitement grew with every 
stride of her mare. She had never gone the pace before. 
On the last lap she was seized with a desire to outstrip 
Fergus, and she succeeded, too, passing the barrow a neck 
ahead. 

“That’s all right. You’ll do,” said Fergus. “But when 
there are half a dozen of you, you’ll have to take the outer 
lap wider.” 

Nessa proposed that they should run it again ; Fergus de- 
clined with a laugh, saying he could show her what he meant 
at a canter. Nessa put her mare at a canter in a minute. 

“ That’s prettily done, ” said Fergus. “ Mignon understands 
you already.” 

Nessa turned upon him, smiling. She liked the man, al- 
though he was free in laying his hand on her arm and call- 
ing her “ dear ; ” but his familiarity was far less offensive than 
the studied formality of some men. It was natural, and there 
was no suspicion of sous-entendu in what he said. For cer- 
tain, Fergus was well pleased with her. She was smart with- 
out knowing it ; graceful without affectation ; and her face 
sparkled with mingled innocence and mischief. 

“ What is it ? ” asked Nessa, suddenly discovering the 
manager’s eye fixed on her face, and passing her handkerchief 
down her ivory nose in the expectation of finding a smut on it. 

“ I’m looking at your complexion. Look here, dear, don’t 
you let them humbug your face about in the dressing-room. 
Don’t have anything on, or you’ll spoil it. It’s just perfect 
now. And don’t let them mess your hair about either. Just 
that natural curl fluttering out over your temple ; nothing 
more. No bangs and no dye. The rich color of the hair 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Ill 


just throws up the pale tint of your forehead, and the love- 

ly — ” 

“ Oh, don’t, please ! ” pleaded Nessa, with a fine show of 
her teeth as she laughed at the compliments piled up by her 
enthusiastic friend. 

“My dear girl, you must allow me to be just as careful 
about your looks and as proud of ’em as I am about the ap- 
pearance of my pet mare Esperance. It’s all business. Now, 
then, Jennings ; put up those two hurdles.” 

“I can see that’s 3'our first jump. You kept your seat 
pretty well ; but you’ll have to do it better than that,” said he, 
wdien Nessa had taken the hurdles. “Try it again. I’ll give 
you a lead. Don’t bother about the mare ; she knows her 
business. Just let yourself swing. Now then — houpe-a, 
Mignon ! ” 

The hurdles, at first set up at an angle, were, by the mana- 
ger’s orders, fixed upright, when Nessa fell into the trick of 
taking them easily, and then the girl only regretted that they 
were not higher. She felt a delightful thrill every time her 
mare rose ; it was like soaring on wings. 

It seemed to her that they could not have been rehearsing 
more than half an hour when Fergus, looking at his watch, 
said, “That’s enough for to-day. To-morrow morning, 
eleven sharp, ladies,” he called to the rest of the company, 
who, under the direction of the ballet-master, were going 
through some complicated combination in the centre of the 
arena. “ You can come in whenever j'ou like,” he added, 
turning to Nessa. “ I’ll speak to the stud-master, and he’ll 
give you a mount. Of course, if you choose to come into the 
evening show you can have a box. You’ll pick up a wrinkle 
or two watching the others, and get accustomed to the look 
of the house, and that sort of thing.” 

“ Oh, thank you so much. I am very much obliged to you,” 
Nessa said, warmly. 


CHAPTER XX. 

IN HEK NEW CHAKACTEE. 

“ Bother Spitalfields ! ” said Mrs. Redmond on Wednesday, 
when they left Arcadia to go home. 

Nessa nodded. It was almost on her lips to say “Bother 
Spitalfields ” also. Spitalfields is not a nice place. On mar- 


112 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


ket mornings the thoroughfare is chocked with costermon- 
gers’ barrows, and the men quarrel and swear a great deal, 
and beat their donkeys shamefully. At other times there is 
nothing in Spital Square but a sour smell of festering cab- 
bage. But the great objection in Nessa’s mind was that it 
lay so far fram Arcadia. She would have lived in Arcadia if 
she might. The first rehearsal had banished all her melan- 
choly misgivings. Her heart and soul were in the business. 
She loved every horse in the stalls, and found charms in the 
place, even by the light of the day, which she had never antici- 
pated. She had the novice’s pride in being behind the scenes, 
and there were such delightful experiences to look forward 
to. She left the building with a regret that only gave place 
to a feverish eagerness for the next rehearsal, to renew the 
pleasure of the past one. 

Living at Spitalfields, she had been unable to avail herself 
fully of the manager’s offer, and, indeed, the time for re- 
hearsal had been cut down to its shortest limits. For Mrs. 
Redmond, either from sluggish indolence or some notion of 
l^rofessional etiquette, could not be induced to get to re- 
hearsal at the hour fixed, and was alwaj's the first to leave. 
While Nessa was fretting and fuming with impatience, ready 
dressed to go, and looking at the clock every other minute, 
Mrs. Redmond pertinaciously dawdled over her toilette ; and 
when Nessa was hoping for one more run round the tan, 
Mrs. Redmond came down, gloved and bag in hand, from the 
dressing-room, with a sharp request to know how much 
longer she must be kept waiting. So long as they lived in 
Spitalfields she felt bound to go backward and forward with 
her friend ; but that would not be the case if they lived, as 
most of the company did, in the neighborhood of Arcadia. And 
so she was very well pleased to hear Mrs. Redmond express a 
dislike to Spitalfields, and readily agreed to see if they could 
find suitable apartments in Porten Street. 

The houses in Porten Street are all exactly alike. The 
proprietor lives in the basement with a young family, a jaded 
wife, and a girl who waits on the lodgers. The entrance is 
up a flight of steps, and opens upon a narrow “ hall ” flanking 
the “ droin’-room set.” The drawing-room is furnished with 
a round table, four chairs, and a chiffonier : all rickety. There 
is a small table in the front window, with a display of wax 
flowers under a glass shade. There is a profusion of “orna- 
ments ” in Bohemian glass, and “ photos ” presented by for- 
mer lodgers. Folding doors separate this room from another 
furnished with two bedsteads, a couple of chairs, a chest of 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


113 


drawers, a toilet table, and a waslistand. There ia no space 
for anything else except the lodgers, and they have to be 
careful how they go. 

“How will this do ? ” asked Mrs. Redmond, when they had 
inspected three “ droin’-room ” sets. 

Nessa thought it would do just as well as any of the others ; 
it was not two minutes’ run from Arcadia ; so Mrs. Redmond 
took it at the low price of fifteen shillings a week, attendance 
and “ extrys ” included ; and that afternoon they fetched their 
effects from Spitalfields and took possession of the new lodg- 
ings. Probably Mrs. Redmond would not have troubled to 
go to Spitalfields, had she not valued her belongings at some- 
thing more than the sum they had to pay as indemnity for 
leaving without the customary week’s notice. 

It was another step downward ; but Nessa was happilj” un- 
conscious of the degradation, accepting the discomforts of 
these squalid lodgings as a necessar^^ condition of her new life. 
She wished that the girl who waited on them would wash 
herself sometimes, and that the people below would for a 
change cook something else than kippered herrings in the 
morning and sprats in the evening ; but she reconciled her- 
self to circumstances with a cheerful determination to make 
the best of them. 

Thanks to attendance being provided, the domestic ar- 
rangements now consisted of giving orders to the girl from 
below, and Mrs. Redmond being equal to the performance of 
this function, Nessa was free to do what she liked, and, oh, 
joy ! had no more to trouble over the cooking of a joint or 
dread the turning out of a pudding. For the rest of the 
week she only left Arcadia to sleep and to get her meals. 

On Saturday there was another delightful experience for 
her: the costumier had brought her dresses, and she was called 
into the wardrobe- room to be “ tried on.” The amazone fitted 
her to perfection ; but that which enchanted her was the 
ultramarine habit with white satin facing and silver trim- 
ming, to be worn with a white wig and a tricorne in the royal 
hunting scene. It was delicious ! And as she looked at her- 
self in the glass she resolved, despite Mr. Fergus’s objection, 
to use plenty of powder and stick a patch at the corner of her 
lip. 

It seemed to her that Monday night would never come : it 
w'as almost too much to expect ; but it came, all the same, 
and at half-past seven Nessa found herself, with seven other 
ladies in blue, waiting in dressing-room No. G for their call. 
They were all very noisy and full of fun except Nessa, and 
8 


114 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


slie was quiet because she did not know the ladies yet awhile, 
though they had shown themselves very friendly, and she 
could not quite understand what they were all talking about 
— partly, perhaps, because her thoughts were in a tumult of 
exj^ectation. 

At last a bell tinkled, and a boy called out — 

All down, ladies, for parade.” 

It was strange to Nessa to see how unconcerned they were, 
and how they dawdled about after this summons that stirred 
her very heart within her. But the overture had only just 
begun ; it came up the stairs in gusts as the door below was 
swung open. She took one last glance at herself as she passed 
the glass, to be sure that her wig was all right and her mouche 
in its proper place, and went down with the rest. 

It was bewildering to look down the stairs, into the court 
below crowded with horses and riders, all glitter and move- 
ment, as they took their places in the procession forming 
along the main opening. She recognized her mare, and won- 
dered how she could get to it through all the confusion ; but, 
ill reality, there was no confusion at all, and in due course 
the mare was led up. She was lifted in the saddle, and led to 
the outside place in the front file, passing Mrs. Kedmond, who, 
to her disgust, had been stuck in the middle of the file behind. 

The overture was finished, and now there was no sound 
but the buzzing of voices and the clatter of hoofs ; but the 
next moment, the conventional three bangs of the drum open- 
ing a march were heard, and the grooms scuttled away to 
take their position at the head of their procession. A few 
moments of fluttering suspense, and then Nessa perceived a 
forward movement in front, and the moment afterward she 
herself was moving slowly forward. All the lights were up, 
the band blazing its loudest as she passed the barrier and 
came into the arena. What a sight it was ! The galleries, 
pink with human faces, the arena sparkling with the flowing 
stream of horses and chariots, and men and women in the 
gayest appointments that imagination could desire. It was 
enough to bewilder a girl who had not yet realized that in 
such a show she was no more than “a pin in a packet” — as 
Mrs. Eedmond put it. But Nessa kept her head, and remem- 
bering her instructions, held her mare in place and looked 
the audience full in the face. 

In less than ten minutes it was all over, and the ladies in 
No. 6 were changing for the next number. After a pause in 
the general clatter of tongues, one of the girls said, speaking 
across the room to Mrs. Redmond : 


BET WEEK LIFE AND DEATH. 


115 


“Look here ! we draw lots who’s to win in the races.” 

“You can draw as maii}^ lots as 3^ou like, my dear ; I mean 
to win if I can. What’s j^our sentiments, chummy ? ” 

“ I should certainly like to try to win ; it must be such 
fun,” Nessa replied. 

“ Oh, I don’t see where the fun comes in ! ” said the girl. 
“ There’s always a row after a free scramble.” 

“I like rows,” said Mrs. Kedmond, sententiously ; and as 
she was not to be dissuaded from her intention, it was agreed 
that the races should take the form of a “ free scramble ” 
within the ordinary rules. 

Nessa, to her gi’eat regret, took no part in the cotillion ; but 
being dressed in her amazone for the coming race, she strolled 
out into the corridor, and there met Mr. Fergus. 

“ Who is to win the first race ? ” he asked. 

Nessa explained what had taken place. 

“I thought Totty wouldn’t agree to drawing lots. There’s 
only one better horsewoman in the set, and that’s 3’ou. Now, 
3’ou mustn’t win, my dear.” • 

Nessa looked crestfallen. 

“Do as I ask you, there’s a good girl,” said the manager, 
kindly. “ I know that woman better than 3'ou do. If you 
beat her, she will never forgive you. Your time will come ; 
but while she’s here, let her win — will you ? ” 

“Of course I will if you ask me,” said Nessa. 

He patted her shoulder, and ran ofi:* with a nod of recogni- 
tion. 

It called for all her self-command to keep in the rear when 
the race was run, and some skill too, for Nessa’s mare was as 
eager for the victory as she ; but she came in last, and went 
off with the girls, env^dng Mrs. Eeclmond, who had won the 
bouquet, and was slowly trotting round the arena to the ap- 
plause of the audience — the only individual recognition to be 
won. 

Mrs. Kedmond won two races out of three on Tuesday. 
No one could have been more amiable than she was to 
Nessa. 

“ I should like to see j^ou win, chummy", ” she said. 

“ Would 3"ou, truly ? ” asked Nessa. 

“ Oh, I mean what I say ; you’ll get into the know of it 
by and by ; but, of course, you can’t expect to do anything 
for some time especially with such an old screw as that mare. 
You see, Fergus is bound to give the best mounts to the best 
riders.” 

On Wednesday evening, during the cotillion, Fergus 


116 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


knocked at the door, and came into the dressing-room where 
Nessa was waiting. 

“Dnprez is here,” he said. ‘‘Just come over from Paris — 
partly to see you. You see, dear, it is like this : I flatter my- 
self on being a born entrepreneur, and it is chiefly for my ser- 
vices as a smart entrepreneur that Duprez has made me his 
right-hand man.” 

“ Pardon me — what is an entrepreneur ? ” Nessa asked, inter- 
rupting him. 

“Well, in our business it’s a man who can spot a good 
thing and snap it up. The best are those who seize oppor- 
tunities before there is time for them to escape. I spotted 
you and determined to get you if I could. That’s wby I Avas 
so ready to conclude business with Tottj". Now the more I 
have seen of you the more convinced I am that I was right in 
my selection — so convinced that in writing to Duprez I let 
myself go about you, with this result that Duprez, who is even 
more anxious than I am to get a good thing, has come over, 
partly, as I tell you, to see what you can do. And so I think 
I shall have to let you go to-night, and risk putting Totty’s 
nose out of joint.” 

“ Oh, I’m sure she won’t mind,” Nessa exclaimed, beaming 
with delight. “ She said she should like to see me win.” 

“ Ah, well ; she’ll have her wish gratified to-night, or I’m 
mistaken. Go steady, take your top leap wide, and keep 
cool.” 

Nessa was glad that there was half an hour to wait, for at 
that moment she felt that she had not the strength to keep 
her seat in the saddle. 

“ Better not tell Totty that Duprez is in the house ; and 
don’t mention my name,” said Fergus, in parting. 

So Nessa only said in a quiet tone to her friend that she 
would try her best to win, without saying why. 

“ That’s right, chummy,” said Mrs. Kedmond, with the 
magnanimity of one who has no fear of defeat. “ Do your 
best, dear.” 

“I will,” said Nessa, quietly. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


117 


CHAPTER XXI. 

BLUE AND WHITE WINS ! 

Six ladies trotted into tlie arena for the open race, each in 
a black riding-habit, with a knot of colored ribbon on her 
shoulder — Nessa wearing blue and white. Alone in a box 
near the winning-post sat a very small man in a very big fur 
coat. A field-glass hid the greater part of his face, leaving 
little visible but a hooked nose, a tufted chin, and a waxed 
mustache. Nessa felt sure this must be the great M. 
Duprez before she heard the French girl by her side whisper 
to another, “ Voild le patron ! ” Fergus, on his thoroughbred, 
stood in the middle of the open space, with the bouquet for 
the victor in his hand. 

The signal -was given as the girls came around in a fair line 
to the starting-place, and Nessa was left behind at the very 
offset. For her intelligent mare, having learned by the ex- 
perience of the two preceding nights that she was to keep 
back resented the cut with which Nessa intimated a change 
of tactics, and rearing up, pawed the air shaking her head 
viciously under the sting of the wfiiip. 

Every eye was turned to the girl with the blue and white 
favor. To some it was a marvel how she kept her seat ; all 
w'ere on the look out for an accident. Another cut as the mare 
came to her feet brought her to a sense of the new duty be- 
fore her, and, with an impetuous spring, she dashed after the 
other riders. Nessa was half a dozen lengths behind as she 
passed M. Duprez, and there was a ring of applause through 
the building when it was seen, that, despite her disadvan- 
tage, she intended to try for a place. The mare understood 
it and tore over the tan, picking up lost ground so well that 
when Nessa passed Duprez again she was no more than a 
length behind the rest, who stuck close together. The little 
man gave an approving sweep of his glass and smiled en- 
chantingly — for a Frenchman. 

A thunder of applause greeted Nessa as she came along on 
the second lap, still working hard. The other riders, who 
alone were unconscious of Nessa’s delay in starting, were at a 
loss to understand the unusual excitement. Mrs. Redmond, 
however, who headed the race, took the applause to herself, and 
elated by this testimony of admiration, kept her mare to it 
with whip and heel, putting her a clear length before the 


118 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


rest. But in finishing the second lap, Mrs. Kedmond became 
conscious of a rider gaining on her, and, glancing back, found 
Nessa close on her heels. 

The audience rose, and craning forward, became wild with 
excitement. Duprez himself rose and leant forward in the 
box to see how the girl was coming on. The mare’s head 
was level with Mrs. Iledmond’s shoulder as they passed him. 
The two riders heard the little man cry, “ Blue and white 
wins!” as they passed, and then understood what it was the 
audience cried as they rushed round in the final lap. “ Blue 
and white wins 1 ” was on every tongue. 

“ No, by Jove, she doesn’t ! ” retorted Mrs. Kedmond be- 
tween her set teeth, thrashing her mare afresh. But she had 
plied her whip from the start and her mare was dull to the 
sting. Nessa had been merciful, and her mare strove her 
utmost to show that she needed no incentive. 

“Now for it, Mignon I ” cried Nessa, half-intoxicated with 
excitement as they rounded the end. 

Mignon threw herself forward with a mighty effort, and in 
a tumult of applause they passed the winning-post, and the 
bell rang. 

“I don’t bear you any grudge, chummy,” said Mrs. Red- 
mond, as they walked their mares side by side to the opposite 
side of the ring. “ You nearly got in.” 

“I did get in,” said Nessa, feeling convinced that she w^as 
ahead of her friend before her mare gave the last magnificent 
leap that decided the race. 

Mrs. Redmond laughed insolently. 

“ We shall see about that directly,” said she. 

They came to a stand in front of the orchestra. Mr. Fergus 
rode up to the umpire, took his award, and trotted across the 
arena. With a touch of her whip, Mrs. Redmond stepped 
out to meet him. 

“ Very good second,” he said, with a smile ; and, passing 
her, he handed the bouquet to Nessa, with a few words’ of 
congratulation as he raised, his hat, which were drowned in 
the thunder of applause that greeted the award. 

Mrs. Redmond turned white with fury upon Fergus, swore 
at him, and putting her mare to a trot, cut across the arena 
to the exit to mark her displeasure. It was the very worst 
thing she could have done ; for the audience, kindly disposed 
toward the defeated when defeat is taken with a good grace, 
is quick to resent anything like an exhibition of spleen to- 
ward its favorite. A distinct hiss followed the vexed w’oman 
out of the arena, giving place to a storm of applause as Nessa, 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


119 


with the bouquet in her hand, trotted slowly round the arena 
bowing her acknowledgments. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Redmond, with such venomous jealousy 
burning in her heart as only unfortunate creatures like her- 
self know, betook herself to the dressing-room, sent for brandy 
and soda, and poured out her grievances to the dressers, who 
listened in silence, and did not pretend to sympathize with 
her, for not a soul in the place liked the woman. When she 
was called for the steeple-chase, she sent the grinning call- 
boy with an insulting message to Fergus and never budged 
from her seat. 

The race was run without her, Nessa winning easily. The 
girls, delighted with Mrs. Redmond’s defeat rather than with 
her friend’s victory, waited on the stairs to congratulate her, 
and trooped up to the dressing-room laughing loudly and 
chatting, with the express intention of mortifying the com- 
mon enemy. 

Mrs. Redmond had her bonnet on, having purposely waited 
to show the lot that she was not afraid of them. A silence 
fell on the girls as they entered, in expectation of a scene. 
Nessa laid down the three bouquets she had won, and 'went 
to her friend with outstretched hand. Mrs. Redmond took 
no notice of this overture, and occupied herself with the fas- 
tening of her glove. 

“ I’m off,” she said ; “ you can stay and settle it with 
Fergus. He’ll expect something for his favoritism.” 

“ Oh, that’s tommy nonsense,” said one of the girls. “ You 
tried all you knew to get in and lost by a neck. The audi- 
ence wouldn’t stand injustice — and you know it.” 

“ You’ll have to put up with your beating, as w^ehave,” said 
another. 

‘*1 don’t know why any of us should take a defeat person- 
ally,” said Nessa. “It’s the horses who win ; not we. You’d 
have won with my mare.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said the boldest of the party. 
“ If Totty had your temper as well as your mare, she might 
win.” 

“ At any rate, she wouldn’t have got hissed.” 

Mrs. Redmond, who had prepared some smart things to 
say, forgot them all under their shower of taunts. She could 
only assume a look of disdain as she marched to the door ; 
but the last sting was unendurable, and, turning at the door, 
she poured forth a volley of coarse abuse that made Nessa 
shudder, and took away all the delight of her success, and 
distressed her infinitely. 


120 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“Mr. Fergus wants to see you, miss,” said the call-boy, as 
Nessa was going down from her room. 

She went into his office, where she found him seated with 
the little man in the big coat — M. Duprez. The impressario 
rose, took off his hat, and made a most ceremonious bow. 
Then he paid her an elaborate compliment on her horseman- 
ship, which Nessa made out pretty well, and replied to in 
such “French of Stratford-atte-Boweo ” as she could com- 
mand, but with a natural grace and self-command which 
more than compensated her faulty pronunciation. She was 
]^o longer a raw school-girl. 

“You understand my wishes with respect to this young 
lady,” M. Duprez said to Fergus ; and, with another deeply 
respectful bow to Nessa, he withdrew. 

“ The boss,” said Fergus, in a low tone, as the door closed. 
“ You saw him, I suppose. I never saw him so enthusiastic 
before. Well, you took the whole audience. That prance 
of old Mignon.’s made it a regular coup de theatre all through. 
But you handled her finely — by George, 3^ou did ! If you had 
put the whip on, she’d have turned rust}', and left you out in 
the cold.” 

They talked about the race for five minutes, and then he 
said : 

“ Totty made a fool of herself. I knew she would. I told 
you how it would be. Look here — she’s just sent this in.” 

He showed her their agreement, torn into half a dozen 
pieces. 

“ What does it mean ? ” Nessa asked, anxiously. 

“Why, it means that she breaks her engagement, and 
don’t intend to come again. For my part. I’m jolly glad. 
She’s a good horsewoman, but she always upsets the show 
wherever she goes. I told you the other day that I shouldn’t . 
have taken her on except to get you. I knew you were too good 
to be lost. Of course, your success means a success for me. 
Duprez wants a manager who can spot a good thing. He’s 
delighted with you ; and I tell you, candidly, it’s as good as 
a note for fifty pounds to me. Well, now Totty has broken 
this engagement, it allows me to make a fresh one with you ; 
and I offer you, individually, the same price I proposed to pay 
Totty for both— four guineas a week. In addition to that, 
besides the bouquets, which the dressers are always glad 
enough to get from you at five shillings each, there will be a 
money prize of ten shillings to the winner, five shillings to 
the second, and a consolation prize of a pound for the girl 
who makes the highest number of third places in the week. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


121 


You are to have I’Esperance, the governor says. Itll be a 
handicap so far as you are concerned : the rest will have a 
fair start, and you’ll have to beat ’em. You see, these races 
are the most attractive thing in the whole show, and we’re 
going to make a star of you. Look ! this is going into all the 
papers, and will be billed all over London before the end of 
a week.” 

He held up a sheet of paper on which M. Duprez had 
scrolled in large letters : 

Hippodbome Races : 

BLUE AND WHITE WINS! 

This took Nessa’s breath away. She sat silent, looking at 
the sheet of paper with blinking eyes that seemed dazzled by 
the words, and a warm flush in her face. 

“ Now,” continued Fergus, “ I have called j’ou that you may 
be prepared for Totty. Now’s the time when you ought to 
break with her for good and all, and she’ll give you a good 
opportunity, I bet, before she goes to sleep, or lets you sleep. 
Go away from her, and get nice little diggings of your own 
in a respectable street ” 

“Oh, I cannot !” exclaimed Nessa, earnestly, though with 
an accent of regret. 

“What do you mean, my dear?” 

“ I can’t separate from her against her wish. And I can’t 
accept this brilliant offer.” 

“ Don’t say that — why ? ” 

“It would mortify her so cruelly.” 

“ She would have no hesitation in mortifying you if it were 
in her power.” 

“ That doesn’t matter. I have told you that I am under a 
great obligation to her. I owe her my life ! ” Nessa said, im- 
pressivel3\ “ You may not like her, Mr. Fergus ” 

“ Nobody does,” growled Mr. Fergus, by way of paren- 
thesis. 

“Then she is the more unhappv And I must not — I can- 
not — do anything that would ad;! fo her unhappiness.” 

Mr. Fergus was vexed ; and ne looked it as he jabbed his 
pen into the table in morose silence. He was thinking of him- 
self and his relations with Duprez, who had expressed his 
wishes significantly ; but he glanced up, and catching sight 
of Nessa, her cheek pale now, and her dark lashes wet with a 
tear, his selfishness vanished. 


122 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ You are a brick, Miss Dancaster,” be said. “ Didn’t fore- 
see this, though ; might if I’d reflected a bit, for anyone can 
see you’re not an ordinary girl.” 

He rose, stuck his hands in his pockets, and looked at the 
floor between his feet. 

Nessa rose also, but he didn’t attempt to terminate the in- 
terview. 

‘‘I’ll tell you what, dear,” he said, suddenly looking up, 
“I’ll square it with To tty. You leave it to me. I needn’t 
say that though. Some girls would go home and tell her 
what has passed in here, to show up their own generosity. 
You won’t — I know precious well. Generous girls don’t show 
off — it’s the mean lot that have to do that. Only just you 
manage to go out for a walk to-morrow morning about ten 
or eleven, and stay out till one. I’ll drop in and see Totty. 
She can be squared ; I know her. She’ll put up with a beat- 
ing every night, if I make it worth her while. I see my way 
clearly enough now,” he added, cheerfully. “ She’ll come 
into the show again to-morrow — especially if she thinks she 
is forcing me to eat humble pie ; and she’s welcome to think 
that, for all I care. But you and I will have that agreement 
all the same, and we’ll get the posters up on Monday.” 

And on Monday, sure enough, all London was wondering 
what was the meaning of the bills on the boarding — “ Hippo- 
drome Races : Blue and White wins ! ” 


CHAPTER XXH. 

STICKING TO IT. 

It was a great hit. The hippodrome races were the talk of 
the town. The common theme of discussion was whether 
the races were run fairly or not, was it an arranged thing 
that Blue and White should win against such odds, and it 
became the thing to go to Ai'cadia and decide by personal 
observation ? 

In the dull season before Christmas, when other places of 
entertainment were doing bad business, the hippodrome 
drew “ big houses.” The management had lighted upon 
Nessa in the very nick of time. There had been an enormous 
development in public taste for everything connected with 
sport, and through Nessa the Hippodrome had succeeded in 
taking the tide of fortune at the flow. But independent of 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


123 


her shill and audacity as a horsewoman, she attracted the 
crowd by her youth and beauty. She was called upon to sit 
for a fresh photograph about three times a week ; her por- 
traits were stuck in every jjlace of vantage in the building ; 
they w’ere carried in pockets by the programme boys ; they 
were in all the shop windows ; she was shown, in colored 
X)osters, flying over a five-barred gate, with her knot of parti- 
colored ribbon streaming from her shoulders, and “Blue and 
White -wins ! ” for a legend. Viola Dancaster was, in fact, all 
over London. 

Nessa’s salary was doubled and doubled and doubled again. 
She might have commanded any terms she chose to make. 
In her place Mrs. Bedmond W’ould have made a fortune. 
Nessa w’as not greedy of gain. She enjoyed her life so much 
that it seemed to her almost too bad to take money for w'hat 
gave her such delight. It is doubtful if she fully realized the 
value of money, never having had more than a few shillings 
at a time. She was glad, of course, to live in a better house, 
and be waited on by a clean servant, and dress well ; but her 
desire only went one step further, and that was to discharge 
her obligations to Mrs. Bedmond. To her she handed over 
all the money she made, taking what she needed for her own 
immediate requirements with something almost like an 
apology. 

As she came to know men and women better, and obtained 
a clearer perception of the motives that govern their actions, 
her faith in Mrs. Bedmond’s disinterestedness died awa}', and 
she ceased even to like the woman ; but for that reason she 
felt more strongly than ever bound to discharge Mrs. Bed- 
mond’s continually-reiterated claim on her gratitude. 

One morning, when Nessa had risen almost to the zenith 
of her poi^ularity, Fergus said to her, 

“Miss Dancaster, which would you prefer — money or a 
horse?” 

“ The horse,” replied Nessa, without a moment’s reflection. 

“I knew it !” cried Fergus, slapping his thigh in satisfac- 
tion ; “ I bet a fiver you would choose the horse. Well, now, 
my dear, you’ve only got to choose which horse it shall be. 
We’ll walk down the stalls — perhaps there’s one in the stud I 
can let you have.” 

“ I don’t quite understand you.” 

“It’s like this: there’s a lot of betting goes on in the 
canteen among the mashers — ihe hahilues, you know — and 
you’ve put a lot of money in some of their pockets. Well, 
they want to make you some sort of recognition, and they 


124 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


have asked me to do it in as delicate a manner as possible. 
I’m a bad hand at that sort of thing, you know ; but I 
thought you would not refuse a gee-gee.” 

“But I can refuse it,” said Nessa, very seriousty, “if ” 

“ If there were any mortal reason why you should. But 
there ain’t. Now, look here : I’ve got the moue3\ Every 
man subscribed, but who gave a fiver or who gave fifty, I 
don’t know ; and if I had to return the money, I shouldn’t 
know where to begin, and should end, ten to one, in sticking 
to the lot myself. If you refuse it, I shall consider that it’s 
because I am wanting in delicacy, and I shall be horribly 
mortified, and so will everyone else.” 

“If you really think I might take it — if you could advise 
your own sister to take it — ” Nessa said, casting a longing 
eye down the row of sleek horses. 

“ I wish to Heaven I had a sister worthy of such a com- 
pliment ! Now, what do you think of Caprice ? ” 

Nessa thought Caprice was lovely, and Patatrac beautiful, 
and Zut charming, and so she went down the line, admiring 
one after the other, quite at a loss which to select from so 
many worthy of selection. Then suddenly she stopped, with 
that look which was as beautiful on her face as the shadow of a 
cloud on a sunny landscape. 

“How much money might I have instead of the horse?” 
she asked. 

“ Two hundred guineas.” 

“Then I think I’ll take the money, if it’s all the same.” 

“ Oh, of course it’s all the same, my dear,” said Fergus, 
cheerfully as he could, for it meant the loss of his bet — five 
pounds out of pocket. Will you have a check or notes ? ” 

“Notes,” said Nessa, with a sigh and one long, regretful 
glance at Patatrac. 

“ Now, what the deuce is she going to do with the cash ? ” 
wondered Fergus, when the transaction was concluded and 
Nessa nodded a sunny “good-by” to him from her hansom. 

Nessa drove to all the shops she could remember going to 
with Mrs. Redmond, asked what was owung in the name of 
Vanessa Grahame, paid up, and found herself in the end with 
barely enough to pay her cab fare home. 

“Now they can’t send her to prison for getting things 
under false pretences,” she said to herself ; and thought no 
more of Patatrac. 

She had no fear for herself now, and held Redmond in 
contempt ; and this fearlessness arose partly from a ch[inge 
in her own character, and partly because the danger was less, 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


125 


Physically and mentally, her strength was vastly increased by 
the exercise in which every faculty of body and mind was 
daily called into play. She was no longer helpless and 
friendless. An inexperienced girl just run away from school 
might easily be got out of the way, but it was another thing 
with a young woman whose face was known all over England. 
Kidnapping was out of the question while she had a voice 
and the courage to call for help ; and a dozen doctors could 
not prove her of weak mind in face of the witnesses she could 
bring to attest the contrary. She reasoned that the instinct 
of self-preservation would restrain Redmond from attacking 
her if accident led him to discover that she was Viola Dan- 
caster, seeing that such a course would lead only to an ex- 
posure of his own villany. 

Among the men of the world who frequented the canteen 
was an eminent Q. C. One night he said to Fergus, who 
was always open to receive a cigar, and willing to talk about 
the show : 

“ I don’t see Miss Dancaster here. All the other girls drop 
in pretty regularly.” 

“ Perhaps that’s the reason why Miss Dancaster doesn’t.” 

‘‘Hum! Considers herself a cut above them, eh?” 

“No ; there’s none of that confounded nonsense about 
her. She thinks none the worse of others because she re- 
spects herself.” 

“That hardly explains, Mr. Fergus, why the presence of 
other young ladies causes Miss Dancaster to absent herself.” 

“ I’ll endeavor to make it clear even to the meanest com- 
prehension,” retorted Fergus, smartly. “You gentlemen 
adopt a style of conversation in the presence of those young 
ladies which Miss Dancaster could not listen to with pleasure. 
She used to come in here once, and liked it. She drank 
champagne here with the rest, and seemed to like that too. 
But not for long. When she found that the women who 
drink champagne here cease to be ladies, she dropped that ; 
and when she found that gentlemen who came here took the 
2)rivilege of laying aside good* manners, she dropped you. On 
the whole, I should think the loss is yours, for a more charm- 
ing young lady doesn’t exist.” 

“ Oh ! she is a young lady.” 

“I should have thought even you could see that.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Fergus.” 

The Q. C. turned the cigar in his lips, looked at the ash as 
he expelled a thin whilf of smoke, and then, fixing one eye on 
Fergus, said : 


126 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Shauld you be surprised to learn that the young lady is 
heiress to a considerable fortune ? ” 

“Not a bit. If she had a title I should not be astonished. 
From the very first I have believed that she has been driven 
from home.” 

“ What reason have you for supposing that ? ” 

“Her education — manners — face — figure ; everything shows 
birth and breeding.” 

“ You have no other evidence than such as you might take 
in judging the character of a horse, I suppose, Mr. Fergus?” 

Fergus acknowledged the hit, and said he needed none 
better. 

“Now, could you ask Miss Dan caster if her name is Vanessa 
Grahame? ” 

“I dare say I could, but I’m quite sure I wouldn’t.” 

“Unless it w^ere to tjjn 3'oung lady’s advantage,” suggested 
the Q. C. 

“That would alter the case, certainly.” 

“I think I can show 3’ou that you may ask the question- 
without impertinence. I have lately taken into my office a 
clerk. His name is Levy. This young man, without know- 
ing the interest I took in Miss Lancaster, asked m3' opinion 
in a case where certain scoundrels have conspired to rob Miss 
Grahame, not only of her fortune, but her libert3' also, and 
possibly her life. If his story is true, I believe there w'ould 
be no difficulty in punishing at least one of the offenders, and 
restoring Miss Grahame to the position she has been forced 
to relinquish. Now, if Miss Vanessa Grahame and Miss 
Viola Lancaster are one and the same person, I might be dis- 
posed to take up her case from a feeling of respect with 
whicli I fear, Mr. Fergus, 3"ou hardly credit me.” 

“ Oh, 3^ou’re a gentleman at heart, it’s 3'our manners I find 
fault with,” Fergus said, brusquel3', as he knitted his brow. 

“ Thank 3'ou, sir,” j.’eplied the Q. C., with mock politeness. 
“ The first thing is to find out if Miss L. is Miss G, and that 
3'ou can know 133' putting the question to her point-blank, as 
I certainly should if I had the pleasure of speaking to her in- 
stead of you.” 

“ Kestoring Miss Grahame to her position means taking 
Miss Lancaster out of the show. You are asking me to do 
too much,” said IMr. Fergus, gloomil3'. 

“ But you’ll do it all the same, Mr. Fergus, unless I am 
greatly mistaken in yonr character.” 

Fergus made no reply to this. It was hard lines to sacri- 
fice his own interests for those of a friend. But it looked as 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 127 

if he must. Nessa had admitted that her life had been saved 
by Mrs. Eedmond. 

“ Her life isn’t in jeopardy now, is it ?” he asked. 

Yes, it is, my friend. Her life must be in jeopardy while 
those rascals have a chance of protitin" by her death.” 

“I’ll see about it,” said Fergus, coldly. 

The next day he found an opportunity to s^Deak to Nessa in 
private. 

“ Now, don’t you say a word till you’ve heard all I have to 
tell you,” he began. And then he recounted, as closely as he 
could remember, all that had passed the night before between 
himself and the Q. C. 

“ There you are, my dear,” he said, in conclusion. “ Now 
it’s for you to say whether you wish to be known as Miss 
Dancaster or Miss Grahame.” 

Nessa reflected for a few minutes, and then she said, 

“I am very grateful to you, Mr. Fergus, and very grateful 
to your friend ; but I do not wish to be known by any name 
but Viola Dancaster.” 

“ But if your life is in danger ? ” suggested he. 

“ My life is not in danger,” replied Nessa, in a tone of con- 
viction ; for she had quite resolved that Kedmond was power- 
less to harm her. 

“I’m glad to hear it, with all my heart. But there is your 
position to think about.” 

“ I have thought about that. I am very happy here — hap- 
pier than ever I have been in my life. I like the people here 
— everyone. I have all that I desire. The excitement is such 
a delight to me that I pity those who only look on. I do 
not think I could live without this nightly pleasure. It is 
everything to me. I would not lose it even if my life were in 
danger.” 

Fergus breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

“ Then what am I to tell this fellow ? ’’ he asked. 

“Tell him that Viola Dancaster refuses to acknowledge 
any other name.” 


128 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A TKEATY. 

For one so young and so fresh in the field, Nessa had a 
wonderful amount of tact, which she owed to natural good 
feeling and good sense. She never wished to hurt anyone, 
and the wish not to hurt prevented her from giving uninten- 
tional offence. She treated others as she wished them to 
treat her ; she was true to them and true to herself. To sum 
up her character briefly, there was, as Mr. Fergus had said, 
“no confounded nonsense about her!” And so, being 
“ awfully nice ” as well as “ awfully pretty ” — and women are 
quite as much influenced as men are by the good looks of a 
girl — Nessa was liked by everyone, with the solitary excep- 
tion of Mrs. Redmond. 

She was a good, large exception. Her jealousy and hatred 
amounted almost to a monomania. She brooded over the 
giiTs success with envy gnawing at her heart. She had nothing 
else to do, being one of those wretched w'omen whose sluggish 
disposition recoils from any occupation ; her reading never 
went beyond the advertisements in a newspaper ; her interest* 
in life was bounded by the gratification of her own appetites 
and passions. One passion now occupied the place of all 
others — this morose, vindictive jealousy of Nessa ; and every 
malevolent feeling of her ill-conditioned nature was concen- 
trated in a burning desire for the girl’s downfall. Her hatred 
was only increased by the knowledge that she owed her own 
position in the International, and her luxuries at home, entirely 
to one whom she constantly regarded as an enemy and a rival. 

One night, when her business was done and she sat in the 
canteen alone at one of the round tables, with her favorite 
drink before her, she* saw, lolling against the bar at the fur- 
ther end of the place, her husband and Mr. Nichols, the 
money-lender. For the first moment she was struck with 
fear — having the cowardice of wickedness — but this feeling 
gave place to one of another kind as she reflected that they 
were Nessa’s enemies rather than hers. Almost at the same 
moment Redmond caught sight of her. They stared at each 
other for a minute with the fixity of a couple of savage ani- 
mals whose attitude is open to suspicion ; then Redmond 
nodded with a sickly grin, and his wife responded in the same 
manner ; Nichols, who had turned round, also nodded and 


BETWEEN' LIFE AND DEATH. 


129 


grinned. This overture being made, the two men came down 
and seated themselves at the round table, after shaking hands 
with the woman. 

“Seen the show?” she asked, as coolly as if the men had 
been the merest casual acquaintances. 

Eedmond nodded. 

“You’re looking pretty fit, considering — ” he said. 

“ Considering what ? ” she asked, combatively. 

“ Considering what you have to put up with. Awful come 
down for you.” 

“ What’s an awful come down ? ” in the same tone. 

“ Now don’t quarrel, my dear — don’t quarrel just as you’ve 
come together,” said Mr. Nichols, in the unctuous tones and 
wdth the greasy smile of a Jew money-lender, as he raised a 
deprecating hand, dirty, but glittering with a marvellously 
big diamond. “Don’t quarrel, whatever you do.” 

“ What do you mean by an ‘ awful come down ? ’ ” insisted 
Mrs. Redmond. 

“Why, to play second fiddle to a girl who hasn’t been six 
months in the profession, after having it all your own way for 
twenty years.” 

“You don’t say Mrs. R. has been in it twenty years?” ex- 
claimed Mr. Nichols, with polite incredulity. 

“ Do you suppose I should let her win if I weren’t paid for 
it ? I should have thought anyone could see that the races 
are all squared.” 

Redmond smiled, with a slow shake of his head. 

“ Of course you’re squared. Everyone knows it,” said the 
amiable Nichols, but in such a tone that if he had told her 
that nobody believed her protest it would have been less ob- 
jectionable. “Of course you’re squared.” 

“Well, I suppose they must have someone young and 
pretty for the business,” said Redmond. “ One can’t expect 
London to go mad over a woman of forty, and one that lays 
on fat as you do.” 

“ Oh, don’t, don’t, don’t ! ” said the peacemaker. “ How I 
do ’ate to hear two married people snacking at each other 
like this ! ” 

“ If Mr. Redmond wishes to insult me ” 

“Nothing of the kind; I came to offer you my sym- 
pathy.” 

“ There you go again ! ” said Mr. Nichols. “ Why will you 
do it?” 

“Do you think I want your sympathy?” asked Mrs. Red- 
mond, growing livid through the rouge. 

9 


130 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Oh, I dare say you can do without it. I’m told Nessa 
keeps you as if you were her own mother.” 

“ Now, why should you take and repeat all the little things 
you hear ? ” remonstrated Nichols. 

“Who says Nessa keeps me? ” asked Mrs. Eedmond, with 
difficulty lowering her voice. 

“Why, everyone says so. It’s self-evident. You go on 
with the crowd at five-and-twenty bob a week, and live up to 
about fifteen or twenty pounds a week. Stands to reason 
you must get that out of Nessa’s pocket.” 

“ There’s a nasty way to put it ! ” protested Nichols. “ Why 
should you say Mrs. K. takes the money, when most likely 
Miss G. gives it of her own free will ? Don’t everyone teU 
you that she’s so generous and kind-hearted now ? ” 

“Oh, no one underrates the generosity of a girl who 
spends two or three hundred pounds to pay bills that might 
have brought you into something worse than the County 
Court. ” 

“ I didn’t ask her to do it — the little fool ! ” 

“ Of course you didn’t,” said Mr. Nichols, in that irritating 
bland tone that always gave his words the lie. “ Of course 
you didn’t ask her to.” 

“Who told you all this? ’’Mrs. Redmond asked, gulping 
down her fury. 

Redmond turned round, and, peering to the right and left, 
said, 

“ Where’s that waiter we were talking to ? ” 

“ Do you mean to say these stories are in the mouths of 
the w’aiters ? ” 

Nichols again interposed to calm the troubled spirit of the 
raging woman. 

“ What does it matter, my dear madam, whether it’s the 
waiters or the swells at the bar?” he asked. “Nobody be- 
lieves a word about it. It’s only Mr. R.’s little way. He is 
so jocular ; ain’t he ? ” 

“Well, everyone’s got a good word to say for her — every- 
one except you,” said Redmond. 

“Oh, Mrs. R.,” remonstrated Nichols, “I ain’t said a word 
against her : come now'.” 

“ Very wise of her, if it’s true that’s she’s only kept on to 
oblige Vanessa.” 

Mrs. Redmond’s lips quivered, but she could make no re- 
ply to her tormentors, while a kind of fascination riveted her 
to the place — the feeling that leads some people to read an in- 
sulting letter through to the end, and then to reread it. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


131 


“Don’t do anything to offend her — keep civil,” pursued 
Kedmond, always with that sickly, sinister smile crossing his 
cheeks. “I dare say it’s a hard trial, but it provides you with 
many things that you would have to do without otherwise.” 

“ You need not trouble yourself on my account,” Mrs. Ked- 
mond muttered, “since it can make no difference to your 
welfare.” 

“ Oh, can’t it, though ! It may make a very considerable 
difference to me.” 

“ How, pray ? ” she asked in a tone of affected indifference. 

“ Why, I may think fit to come and live with you. It’s a 
privilege that you cannot deny me.” 

“And you wouldn’t if you could, would you, Mrs. R? ” 
said Nichols, blandly. “ Now, why don’t you make it up and 
live all happy and comfortable together ? ” 

“It’s about the best thing I can do,” said Redmond, with a 
look that showed he seriously meditated acting upon the sug- 
gestion, “ I’m at the end of my tether, I daren’t touch any 
more of the timber.” 

“ That’s a truth,” said Nichols. “ I’ve made it clear to you 
that I shan’t lend you another sovereign if 3'ou do anything 
illegal. It’s my way of doing business. The moment I see 
one of my friends doing anything that may bring me into 
the witness box, I say ‘good-by’ to him — don’t have any- 
more to do with him.” 

“ I warn 3'ou that the girl will not tolerate you in the 
house,” Mrs. Redmond said, emphatically, after a moment’s 
reflection. 

“You mean she’d bolt and cease to keep you. Hum! 
That’s what I’m afraid of. And it’s what you’re afraid of too, 
isn’t it? Well, if you make it worth my while. I’ll deny my- 
self the pleasure of living with you. I can do with four or 
five pounds a week — you can spare me that, I dare say.” 

Mrs. Redmond was too terrified by this threat to reply. 

“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” exclaimed the distressed Nichols. 
“ What do you want to go frightening poor Mrs. R. like that 
for? I’m sure j^our little lodgings in Hammersmith are more 
suitable to you than that house in Grafton Street.” 

The hint that they had discovered her address was not lost 
on Mrs. Redmond. Between them the two rascals were 
rapidly reducing her to a state of panic. 

“I mean to make hay while the sun shines,” said Redmond, 
in a tone of resolution. 

“ Of course you do. She is quite right and reasonable,” 
said Nichols, blandly. “Mrs. Redmond isn’t unreasonable. 


132 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Now, why can’t you come to a nice, pleasant little arrange- 
ment ? ” 

“I’ve got no money. The expenses take all we get,” Mrs. 
Kedmond protested. 

“ You’ll have to economize.” 

“ I can’t.” 

“ Oh, yes, you can. You’ll have to economize when Nessa 
drops you. You may as well begin now.” 

“But the young lady won’t drop Mrs. B. She wouldn’t be 
so heartless,” said Nichols. 

The innuendo scarcely stung her. Bedmond took up the 
running. 

“ Oh, won’t she ? ” he said, with a derisive laugh. 

“ Not unless you go making yourself unpleasant in Graf- 
ton Street, and you won’t do that, will you, now ? Say you 
won’t. Look at poor Mrs. B.” 

“ Won’t dro ]3 her 1 ” exclaimed Bedmond, with a look of 
the hero. Look at those swells over there. One of ’em’s got 
a title, and I heard him swear that he’d marry the girl to- 
morrow if she would have him. Well, one day one of those 
swells will marry her, and then do you think he’ll let his wife 
keep Mrs. Bedmond as a permanent fixture ? Not he. They’re 
not fools enough for that, those joung fellows. He turned 
to his wife. “ Nessa will drop you, my dear, and when she 
does drop you Heaven only knows what will become of you. 
There’s the workhouse ; but I don’t think you’re fitted for 
that.” 

“ Oh, don’t talk about the workhouse — a fine woman like 
Mrs. B.” 

“ What do you want, you, you, j^ou — ” the tortured woman 
could not find a word vile enough to express all that she felt 
toward the man. 

“ Don’t, don’t ! ” expostulated Nichols. “Oh, don’t go and 
spoil a nice amiable action by a disagreeable word, Mrs. B. 
There, she asks 3 'ou what you want, my friend.” 

“ There’s my address,” said Bedmond, putting a piece of 
paper before his wife. “ Send me a five-pound note every 
Saturday, and I won’t bother you. If you forget it. I’ll call 
for it.” 

“There, that’s very reasonable. I’m sure,” said Mr. Nichols, 
laying his fat hand on Mrs. Bedmond’s arm. She jerked it 
away viciously. 

“Oh, you shut up, confound j’ou ! ” said she. “I’ve had 
quite enough of you. This is your plan. He could never 
have the brains to carry it out alone.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


133 


“You really are too flattering. Upon my word you are.” 

‘•'Flatter you! I can’t find a name for you that doesn’t 
flatter — ” she rose snatching up the piece of paper. 

“ Sit down again, my dear lady,” said Nichols, sweetly, but 
with a curiously cunning twinkle in his half-closed eyes that 
excited her curiosity and led her to accede. “ If you think 
I came here just for the sake of interfering between husband 
and wife, you mistake the nature of my business. I’m going 
to show you that I’m a real friend. I am just as anxious to 
l^romote your interest as your husband’s.” He drew out a fat 
letter-case and opening it continued, “ Look, here’s a clean 
sheet of paper, and here’s a j)encil that writes indelible, 
and is just as legal as ink.” He looked round. They 
had the end of the canteen quite to themselves. No one 
was within hearing range ; nevertheless, when he spoke 
again leaning forward with his arms on the table he spoke 
in such a low tone that Mrs. Redmond also had to lean for- 
ward. 

“ Now you’re behaving very handsome in giving your hus- 
band five pounds a week, which will continue as long as noth- 
ing haj)pens to Miss Grahame ; but if anything should hap- 
pen to Miss Grahame, as matters stand at present, you would 
never get a penny of your money back again. That doesn’t 
seem right and fair, and in business you ought always to be 
liberal and generous. Now what I am going to propose is 
this — that, as Mr. Redmond shares in your prosperity while 
Miss Grahame lives, you should share in his prosperity if anj'- 
thing hapi^ens to her. That’s nice and reasonable, ain’t it ? ” 
he asked, turning to Redmond, who replied by a surly nod 
that showed clearly enough that the question had been de- 
cided beforehand. 

“Now I think that if anything happens to Miss Grahame 
you ought, in consideration of j’our generosity to your hus- 
band — you ought to be made independent and comfortable 
for the rest of your life. So here I am writing out an agree- 
ment which 3'ou can get stamped at Somerset House to-mor- 
row morning, making it as binding as any deed drawn up by 
a lawyer — an agreement on the part of your husband to pay 
you — w'hat’s your name, your Christian name, my dear?” he 
asked, pausing in his writing — 

“ Sophia,” replied Mrs. Redmond, eager -with a new hope 
that glimmered in the perspective. 

“To pay you, Sophia Redmond, the sum of fifteen thou- 
sand pounds. Yop can’t expect anything fairer than that, 
can you ? ” 


134 


BETWEEN' LIFE AND DEATH. 


The woman nodded impatiently, and made a gesture for 
him to continue. 

“Now, your husband is going to sign that,” he said, put- 
ting the paper and pencil into Redmond’s hand, and I’m 
going to witness the signature all nice and regular.” 

Redmond signed the paper, pushed it forward with morose 
discontent in his face, rose, and went to the bar without a 
word, leaving his two partners together. 

“There you are, my dear lady,” said Nichols, after writing 
his name to witness the signature. “Take care of it, for it’s 
worth a fortune to you. Of course, while your husband has 
got nothing, you can get nothing by that paper ; but the mo- 
ment he comes into his estate by anything happening to Miss 
Grahame, you just present that, and you won’t have to worry 
about anything in the wide world.” 

She leant over, and spoke with feverish eagerness. 

“ In plain words, this is a security for fifteen thousand 
pounds to be paid me if 

“Hush, hush! I can’t listen to anything that I couldn’t 
take my oath I never heard mentioned. But if I can help you 
in any way — and I think I can — I shall be most happy. Now, 
what do you say to my dropping in like a friend to-morrow 
night, and having a little chat about things in general ? ” 

“ I shall be here as soon as my number is done.” 

“That’s right. Good-night, my dear lady. So glad to have 
brought things round nice and pleasant.” 

He rose, and joining Redmond at the bar, took him out, 
linking his arm in the manner of an impulsive, good-natured 
friend. 

He said nothing. But, as their eyes met, the look of cun- 
ning satisfaction that passed between them contained a w^hole 
volume of villany. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

NICHOLS MAKES A PROPOSAL. 

That meeting took place on Monday ; it was Saturday before 
Mrs. Redmond again saw Nichols. He was standing near 
the bar, making himself agreeable to three or four shallow 
young men of that class which affects the higher class of Bo- 
hemianism of these days — men of good education, who talk 
in the jargon of sporting papers— of gentle birth, who are 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


135 


proud to shake hands with a pugilist, and are not ashamed 
to be indebted to such men as Nichols for cash and anecdote. 
He saw Mrs. Kedmond when she came into the canteen, but 
he had waited until he had told his story and got his empty 
laugh before he strolled over to her. She received him in 
moody silence. 

“ Sorry I couldn’t run in to see you before, my dear lady,” 
he said, seating himself and beckoning a waiter. “ What’ll 
you take ? ” 

Mrs. Redmond was not one to cut off her nose to spite her 
face, so she ordered brandy and soda. 

“ You’ve been down here every night this week,” she said, 
as the waiter whisked off. 

“ Bless my soul, now, how did you find that out ? ” asked 
Nichols, cheerfully. 

“ Oh, you’re known here well enough.” 

“Well, my dear Mrs. R,” leaning forward and dropping 
his voice, “ain’t that a very good reason for my dropping out 
before you come in ? If anything sliovld happen, would it do 
for it to be said that you and me were seen talking together 
night after night up in this corner — I ask you, as a lady of 
sound sense — is it good business ? ” 

“ Oh, that wasn’t your only reason,” said Mrs. Redmond, 
only half-satisfied by the plausible excuse. 

“ Why, what other reason could I have had ? Now tell 
me — do.” 

“ I will. You waited till I had sent the five pounds to 
Redmond that I might feel the pinch, and be the more ready 
to take the next step.” 

The waiter bringing the drinks at this moment, Nichols 
only replied by raising his finger at her as he might at a 
naughty child — a means not calculated to allay the woman’s 
anger. 

“ Oh, I can see through you,” she muttered as the waiter 
departed. 

“ Of course you can. I’m like a hopen book to my friends.” 

“ You and Redmond came here on Monday with a regular 
plan. You put him up to it. He w^ould never have thought 
of it himself. You told him to exact that five pounds a week 
that I might be tempted to any desperate scheme to get free. 
You settled what he should say to stir up my jealousy, and 
goad me on to take vengeance.” 

“Now, did we say anything that was untrue — did we?” 

Mrs. Redmond only beat her foot on the floor for response. 
She had recollected every taunt, every suggestion, that had 


13G 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


been made, and it was the truth which gave the sting to their 
sarcasm. 

“ It’s cost 3’ou nothing,” she said ; “ it’s put money into 
Redmond’s pocket ; and you flatter yourself you’ve got a use - 
ful tool to work with.” 

“ Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! Why will you say such things ? 
Call yourself a partner in a going concern, but don’t call 
yourself a ‘ tool,’ for Heaven’s sake — it’s so low ! ” 

“ Well, what do you want me to do ? You haven’t w'aited 
to see me without a purpose.” 

“ Of course I haven’t. I ain’t come here one blessed night 
without a purpose. I ain’t made myself affable and pleasant 
with all the young mashers here without a purpose. I ain’t 
told a funny story without a jmrpose. I ain’t sprung a penny 
piece without a purpose. It’s business, my dear” (he called 
it ‘ bithneth,’ having a decided lisp), “business, business.” 
He spoke earnestly, impressing each w’ord with a tap of his 
fat, dirty forefinger on the table. 

“ You ask me what I want you to do, my dear,” he contin- 
ued. “In the first place, I want you to understand that I 
am your friend, and that we’re pulling together for one pur- 
pose, and purjDOse is business. We’re each doing our share 
of work, like the wheels in a blessed watch, and it won’t do 
for one of us to get out of gear. You’ve had good proof that 
you’ve been dealt fairly wdth. When you took that bit of 
paper to Somerset House to get it stamped, j’ou asked the 
young fellow there if it was all right and binding, and you 
got a satisfactory answer.” His quick eye told him that the 
tentative assumption was a fact — “ There you see you get a 
fortune, if you pull it off all right. That ought to satisfy 
you.” 

“I should like to know what satisfaction it will be to me 
if — if it doesn’t come off all right. Why, it’s to your interest 
that it shouldn’t come all right — you’ll be fifteen thousand 
pounds in pocket if — ” she looked round, and seeing not a 
soul near, added, in a hoarse whisper — “ if I get hanged for 
murdering the girl ! ” 

“ Oh, dear ! Oh, Moses ! ” cried Nichols, under his breath, 
raising his hands, and covering his ears in horror, “ What 
can you be thinking about? For a real lady like you to use 
such words makes my very blood run like a penny hice down 
my back.” 

Mrs. Redmond looked at him incredulously, as he turned 
away from her uneasily on his chair. He caught a waiter’s 
eye, and ordered him to refill the glasses, saying, as the 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 137 

waiter bustled off with the glasses, that he must have another 
drink to get that ’orrible suggestion out of his ’ead. 

“ There ! if I thought you meant it, m3' dear lady — if I 
thought you likely to go and do a violence — I’d chuck the 
whole concern up this minute. Let us talk of something else 
till I’ve got over it.” 

Mrs. Redmond gave a scornful sniff, and took a deep 
draught from the replenished glass. Nichols paid, and then 
seemingly opened quite a fresh subject. 

“ Do 3^ou know that young swell that’s just going out? ” 

Mrs. Redmond glanced at the door impatiently. 

“What does it matter whether I know him or not ?” she 
asked. 

“It matters a great deal. It’s business. I’ve spent all the 
week inquiring about him. I’ve been here every night spend- 
ing money to know all about him ; and as I told 3'ou just 
now, I don’t spend a penny-piece unless I think it’ll come 
back with interest.” 

“He’s a blithering idiot : that’s all I know about him.” 

“ Well, I know more than that.” 

“ What do you know ? ” 

“ He calls himself Lord Carickbairn — some of you call him 
Lord Lackbrain, and some of you call him Lord Crack- 
brain.” 

“ Well, everybody knows that.” 

“Let me have my sa}'. I’m telling you what it has taken 
me no end of pains to find out. According to ‘Debrett,’ he’s 
a Scotch peer and a member of Parliament ; and his town 
residence is in Eaton Square, and he’s twenty-nine years of 
age.” 

“Rot! He’s not more than twenty-five. I’ll take my 
oath.” 

“ That’s what I thought when I first set about making in- 
quiries. To all appearances the young man has got an un- 
limited supply of ready money, which he is permitted to 
chuck about anyhow. Every night of his life he throws a 
blue and white bouquet that costs him a couple of guineas to 
Miss G ” 

Mrs. Redmond knew this also, for the bouquets were her 
perquisites, and she sold them to the florist the next morning, 
after carefully taking out the notes which Nessa never dreamed 
of looking for. 

“I could have told you that,” said Mrs. Redmond, biting 
her lips, with a newly inflamed jealousy. 

“But you didn’t, my dear, so I’m telling you. Now, do 


138 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


you know the Rev. William Hexham ? You ought to, for 
he’s very partial to you.” 

“I speak to him, now and then. That’s all I know.” 

“ They call him the Muscular Christian here, I find.” 

“He’s not a parson. It’s only a disguise. He’s nothing 
in the world but a private keeper, who looks after Crack- 
brain, pretending to be his tutor or friend, or something.” 

“Just so. But why didn’t you say so, then I shouldn’t 
have had to tell j^ou ? ” 

“Well; what’s that got to do with us, I should like to 
know ?” 

“We may have a good deal to do Avith him. And I want 
you to be a little more ajffable and nice with him if you can. 
I Avant you, in fact, to get him in a line, if you understand 
me. You see. Lord Carickbairn lives with him in his cham- 
bers in Westminster, and he has control over his lordship, 
although letting him do pretty much as he pleases. I Avant 
you to sound him.” 

“ He’s precious close.” 

“I know he is — and suspicious too. That’s AvhylAvant 
you to get at him. Because I can’t safely.” 

“What do you AA’ant to knoAV?” 

“ I Avant you to find out if he ever leaves his lordship alone 
for a day together. That’s all at present.” 

“ I shall have to know what you are at,” said Mrs. Redmond, 
pointedly. 

“ Oh, you shall. There’s no secrets between partners in 
business. The very last time I had the pleasure of seeing 
you, I heard his lordship swear that he would marry Miss G. 
to-morrow if he had the chance. He’s told her so in the little 
letters he slips in the bouquets. And he means it.” 

“Well?” said Mrs. Redmond, interrogatively. 

“ What Ave Avant is to give him the chance.” 

Mrs. Redmond looked at Nichols as if she doubted his san- 
ity ; but he continued, in the same even undertone — 

“ While the Reverend William Hexham is about Ave shan’t 
get the chance. That’s why I Avant you to find if he ever 
takes a day off.” 

“ In order that the girl I hate may marry a lord — a mill- 
ionaire ” 

“Yes, my dear; but this young gentleman is somebody 
more than that — he’s a ” 

He paused and glanced about him ; and then whispered 
tAvo words in a tone so low that none could hear them but 
she. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


139 


CHAPTEK XXV. 

Nichols’s scheme a failure. 

“ Ob, look here, chummy, here’s a letter for you ! ” said 
Mrs. Redmond to Nessa one morning, when they met in the 
breakfast-room. 

Nessa took the letter and examined the outside curiously. 
She had never seen one like it before. It was particularly 
small ; the edges were gilt ; there was a coronet in the left- 
hand corner with a complicated monogram below, which was 
in itself as good as a conundrum ; and it was addressed to 
Miss Viola Dan caster. 

“ There’s no postage stamp. Do you think it’s an adver- 
tisement ? ” she asked. 

“ What a question ! If j^ou had been in society you would 
know better. Don’t you see the coronet ! It’s from some 
person of title, of course.” 

“ Oh, I see ! The coronet is like the label on a bottle of 
pickles — without which none are genuine ! ” 

“It’s horrid bad form to sneer at the aristocracy,” Mrs. 
Redmond observed, in a tone of disgust, as if her own posi- 
tion had been assailed. 

“ Sneer at them ? ” exclaimed Nessa. “ I couldn’t. I love 
the whole ten thousand, especially when they send me such 
sweet little letters. How did it come?” With a pair of 
scissors she cut the end of the envelope and drew out the 
enclosure as she spoke. 

“ I found it in your bouquet.” 

“ Which?” 

“ The Blue and White.” 

The information 'was lost upon Nessa, whose attention was 
concentrated in the diminutive sheet of crabbed handwriting. 

“ It’s an offer of marriage ! ” she exclaimed, coming to the 
end. “ ‘ Hand and fortune,”’ she read, going over it again ; “ he 
doesn’t say anything about his heart, and I cannot make out 
the man’s name. Where did you say it came from ? ” 

“ The Blue and White bouquet ; it fell out at my feet.” 

“ Then it must be that dreadful young man in the box who 
makes such a noodle of himself every night.” 

“I don’t know why you speak disrespectfully of Lord 
Carickbairn. It isn’t every girl in your position who receives 
such a compliment from a Scotch peer.” 


140 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ But unfortunately his name doesn’t prevent him being 
very silly. Every night he is there with his enormous bou- 
quet, and I don’t think I can be accused of encouraging 
him.” 

“ If you came in the canteen like the rest, and weren’t such 
a touch-me-not young person, he might express himself in 
some other way. What does he say?” 

Nessa handed the letter. She didn’t know whether to 
laugh or be serious. In her heart she felt flattered, as most 
girls do by proofs of admiration, no matter how crazy the 
admirers show themselves to be. 

“ Fancy sending an offer of marriage in a bouquet ! ” she 
murmured. 

“ Oh, my dear. I’ve had hundreds of them sent in that way. 
If I had accepted all the offers — I mean some of the offers — 
I might have had a title. He implores you to give him an 
interview. Of course you will see him.” 

“ I shall do nothing of the kind,” Nessa replied, with quiet 
dignity. 

“ Good gracious me ! Why not ? ” 

“Because I don’t feel that I ought to.” 

“ But don’t you see that this letter fixes him ? It’s an offer 
of marriage.” 

“ The greater reason for refusing an interview. I don’t in- 
tend to marry.” 

“ What nonsense ! Why, he is a peer, and has ever so 
much money.” 

“ And ever so little brains.” 

Mrs. Bedmond turned her shoulder impatiently. 

“But even if his wisdom were in proportion with his wealth 
and position,” continued Nessa, “I would not marry him.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Because I have not the slightest feeling of love for this 
gentleman.” 

“ That means that you have for some other — some fellow 
in the company, I suppose ? ” 

Nessa was accustomed to rudeness from this woman ; but 
it was by an effort that she replied, quietly, 

“No, I have no love for any gentleman in the company.” 

“ Then what difference does it make whether you marry 
Lord Carickbairn or not ? ” 

“ I should think it would make a great deal of difference 
to him whether I loved him or not.” 

“Oh, that’s his lookout. He doesn’t ask you to love him ; 
he asks you to be his wife.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


141 


Nessa made no reply. Silence always exasperated Mrs. 
Redmond. 

“ Look here,” she said, “ you’d better think this over. It’s 
a chance you may not get again. You think it will be all 

right when you’re twenty-one. ‘ But there’s many a slip 

you know ; and I bet ten to one you’ll never get a penny of 
your fortune — Redmond will find some means to do you out 
of it — and then where will you be ? After all, what are you ? 
A favorite because you’ve got good teeth and eyes and a 
decent figure. But how long are you going to keep your 
looks, and what will you be when you’ve lost ’em ? A young 
woman who got her living by riding in a circus. "Why, if a 
tradesman married you, he’d have to hush that up.” 

“ I could not have thought of a better reason for not marry- 
ing Lord Carickbairn. ” 

“Oh, bother your stage answers,” said Mrs. Redmond, 
whose rej)artee was not of a delicate kind. “Can’t you say 
plain out what you mean ? ” 

“Yes, I dare say I can if I try,” replied Nessa, pleasantly, 
her good nature overcoming a sense of irritation. “ I mean 
this : that when I marry it will be because I can’t help mar- 
rying — just from such irresistible impulse as has governed 
my actions always. When I feel that I must marry, I shall 
marry ; but not till then. Even then I may not be right ; 
but, surely, it wiU be better than to do that which I feel must 
be wrong. It would be wrong to take advantage of this oifer 
that has been made me. Why ? What does Lord Carickbairn 
know of me ? Nothing but what he has seen under the lights 
of the show. He is pleased, like the rest of the crowd, with 
my eyes and my teeth and my figure, as 3'ou say ; but when 
he sees nothing in me to admire and recognizes me only as a 
girl who earned her living in a circus, he will be heartily 
glad,” Mrs. Redmond turned aside with an impatient excla- 
mation, “ that he is not obliged to own me for his wife. But 
quite apart from that consideration,” continued Nessa after a 
moment’s reflection, “and looking at it only from a self- 
interested point of view, why should I marry him or anyone 
else ? I don’t want a husband. All my heart and soul is in 
my business. I couldn’t be bothered with him. I think that 
is why I never feel in love with any single one — because all 
my feelings are given to so many. I love all the audience, 
and my sole thought is to win their admiration and receive 
their homage. It’s the passion of my life. If I heard that 
all my fortune was lost — gone forever — I shouldn’t feel one 
moment’s regret, so far as my own loss was concerned. And 


142 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


as for position, I know none in the world that I would change 
for one generous outburst of applause.” 

“That’s all very fine for you,” said Mrs. Redmond; “but 
how about me? You mayn’t want money, but I do. You 
don’t seem to remember the sacrifice I’ve made, and all that 
I’ve done, to get you out of the scrape your ‘irresistible im- 
pulse ’ got you into.” She underlined the words with a sneer, 
or whatever you like to call it. 

Nessa was no longer under a delusion with regard to the 
sacrifice that had been made for her. She knew the woman, 
being herself a woman now. She believed still that Mrs. 
Redmond had saved her life, and in that, but nothing more, 
she felt indebted to her. For a moment she looked at this 
coarse, pretentious friend in silence, with something like pity 
in her face, and then she said, in her low, calm tone : 

“ Yes, I do remember all that you have done for me. But 
if I married Lord Carickbairn to compensate you for saving 
my lifQ, you would be my debtor as long as I lived.” 

“ Oh, I shouldn’t feel the debt much more than you do, 
perhaps,” replied the lady, turning away with a sniff of con- 
tempt and walking out of the room. 

Nessa sat in meditation, with her hands folded in her lap, 
until the door opened and Mrs. Redmond came in to look 
for something. The expression of blank unconsciousness in 
her face indicated a settled determination for the protracted 
sulk to which fat-fair women of mean birth seem peculiarly 
addicted. 

“I have been thinking about what you said,” said Nessa, 
meditatively, still seated with her hands in her lap by the 
-window, “ and it seems to me that I have done wrong 
in neglecting an opportunity of providing for the future 
simply because I myself feel no need of money. I ought 
to have remembered how much happiness depends upon 
it.” 

Here was a surrender! Mrs. Redmond was so taken by 
surprise that she could do nothing for a moment. But she 
forgot all about her sulk, and in the succeeding flush of ex- 
ultation ran to the girl’s side and caressed her fondly. 

“ You dear, unselfish, naught}^ little chummy 1 ” she ex- 
claimed, wdth a kiss between each word. “I knew you -vvould 
see what was square and straight. So you will see L6rd 
Carickbairn ? ” 

“Oh, dear, no,” said Nessa, decided ; “there was no need 
to think twice about that. It is my own fortune, not his, 
that I intend to secure.” 


BETWEEN' LIFE AND DEATH. 


143 


Mrs. Redmond’s caressing hand relaxed and slipped inch 
by inch from Nessa’s neck as she listened. 

“There is a gentleman — a barrister or a judge, someone 
very powerful in the law— who made an offer through Mr. 
Fergus to take up my case and protect my estate from con- 
fiscation if I would accept his services.” She narrated what 
had taken place on this occasion. 

“ You never said a word about this to me,” said Mrs. 
Redmond, sharply. 

“ No ; as I declined to acknowledge that I was Vanessa 
Grahame, I did not think it worth while to talk about it.” 

“ Why did you refuse ? ” 

“ I did not think there was any necessity to take legal pro- 
ceedings, for one thing,” Nessa replied. She might have 
added that her chief reason was a wish to spare Mrs. Red- 
mond the shame of having her husband’s villany made pub- 
lic, but she kept that reason secret with persistent delicacy. 
“It seemed to me impossible that I could be robbed x)i my 
estate, but now that you tell me it is most probable that I 
shall lose all, I feel that I ought to avail myself of this gentle- 
man’s offer.” 

“ What could he do ? ” 

“I suppose he would take action at once against Mr. Red- 
mond for attempting to — to murder me. That, I am afraid, 
would necessitate your being called as a witness. But your 
evidence would surely convict him, and secure the estate at 
once.” 

Mrs. Redmond’s hand slipped from Nessa’s shoulder as if 
it had been a hand of lead. The prospect of being put into 
a witness-box to face her husband chilled her to the maiTow ; 
for she knew that he would say, “That woman’s place is here 
beside me, in the dock ; for it was she who planned the murder 
and did the work where my hands failed. She drugged the 
girl. Let the doctor be called to prove my words.” The 
woman was panic-stricken at the idea. 

“ No, no — you mustn’t — you mustn’t do that ! ” she cried, 
dropping in a chair. She dared not look Nessa in the face 
for fear her own might betray her guilt and complicity in the 
attempted crime. “ You mustn’t do that,” she repeated, with 
a faltering voice ; “ don’t take any notice of me. I’m upset. 
I can’t tell you why.” 

“ The reason is clear enough,” said Nessa, kindly ; “ Mr. 
Redmond is still your husband.” 

“ Yes, that’s it — that’s it, dear little chummy,” the woman 
said, eagerly, catching at the excuse gratefully ; “ he’s still 


144 : 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


my husband. I couldn’t give evidence that might ruin him 
forever. You must forget what I said. I exaggerated. He 
couldn’t touch your estate. Promise me you won’t speak to 
that man — tlie barrister of Fergus — or anyone, about this. 
You won’t take legal proceedings — promise me.” 

“ With all my heart I give you the promise. I have said 
already that, so far as I am concerned, I do not wish to take 
any steps against him.” 

“ Thank you ! Thank you, chummy ! ” said Mrs. Kedmond, 
humbly, pressing the girl’s warm fingers in her cold, clammy 
hand. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

ANOTHER TRIUMPH. 

Mrs. Redmond knew that barrister well enough by reputa- 
tion and by sight. She had always feared and disliked him, 
and instinctively felt that he disliked her. He had a way oif 
piercing her with his eye with evident enjoyment in the dis- 
comfort she experienced. He seemed to be saying to himself, 
“You’ve done something wrong in your time, my friend, and 
I’d get it out of you in five minutes if I had you under cross- 
examination ! ” She dreaded him more than ever now, and 
if peeping through the curtained doors of the canteen she saw 
him in there she would abstain from going in. She suspected 
Nessa of secretly communicating with him. The discovery 
of her own complicity in Redmond’s crime must always be 
possible while Nessa lived. The fertile imagination of Mr. 
Nichols could not have devised a stronger incentive to the 
fulfilment of his purpose. 

Meanwhile week by week the greedy woman had to deny 
herself some luxury in order to send the five pounds to her 
husband. It was now more than ever necessary to keep him 
out of sight, but she begrudged the money none the less that 
paid for his retirement. The fear of justice was constantly 
on her mind ; the necessity of scraping the weekly payment 
together continually presented itself. The burden every day 
became more intolerable. And while existence for her was 
growing unendurable, Nessa was finding fresh pleasures to 
add to her enjoyment of life. Nothing was wanting to stir 
up her venomous passion and goad her on to desperation. 

A new spectacle was prepared by the ballet-master, and 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


145 


put up for rehearsal after Christmas. As soon as the holiday 
audience began to fall off, the boardings were placarded with 
new bills ; 

Olympic Games. 

PRIZE OP ONE HUNDRED POUNDS. 

A prize of one hundred pounds is offered to any compet- 
itor who shall win the prize of Skill and Beauty in 

THE OLYMPIC GAMES 

at the International. The competition is open to everyone 
without exception, submitting, of course, to the same regu- 
lations observed by the paid members of the International 
Compan}'.” 

The announcement was flanked on each side by scrolls in 
blue and white — Nessa’s well-known colors — on which were 
printed, in large letters — “Irene wins ! ” 

“ The company backs Irene (Miss Viola Dancaster) against 
the whole world, for one hundred pounds at each representa- 
tion.” 

On the first Monday in February the spectacle was pro- 
duced. Scene-j)ainters and carpenters had been at work for 
weeks, and during Sunday they had got up cloths and bat- 
tens Avhich gave to that part of the building occupied by the 
audience the aspect of a Koman amphitheatre — nearly enough 
for an entertainment in which anomalies and anachronisms 
met you at every point. At one end of the auditorium half 
a dozen private boxes had been cleared away to make place 
for a flight of steps leading to the benches for the judges, 
above which rose a chair of gold for the Queen of Skill and 
Beauty — something of mediaeval custom being incorporated 
into the Grseco-Koman medley. A light barrier running round 
the whole arena enclosed a narrow space for the Greek audi- 
ence. The middle was occupied by a raised dais for wrest- 
ling and combats ; the space between this and the barrier 
was divided into two courses by a circuit of tripods, each 
eighteen feet high, garlanded together — the outer course for 
the horses ; the inner one for chariots and pedestrians. 

At half-23ast seven every seat in the vast building was taken. 
Money was turned away at the doors, even for the private 
boxes. They had been secured by Nessa’s admirers and 
their friends long before, for it was known that something 
quite novel and original was to be ^^roduced. 

10 


14:6 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


The show began with the entrance of a dozen sandalled 
and toga’d attendants with lighted wands, who, passing 
quickly round the course, lit up the censers on the tripods, 
which threw up a blue, flickering flame with good efiect, the 
ordinary lights overliead being turned up simultaneously. A 
venerable gate-keeper, with a heavy bunch of ke^'s, crossed 
the arena, and seeing the censers lit, slowly opened the. arena 
gates. 

With a burst of joyous laughter and delight, the Greek 
spectators rushed into the space reserved for them — men, 
women, and children, old and young, in all sorts of classical 
costumes — helter-skelter ; all eager to get a front place at 
the barrier — some creeping under and crossing the arena to 
get vacant places on the other side — a touch of realism be- 
ing added by a father perching his child on the edge of the 
boxes behind, and by some bare-legged j'oungsters climbing 
up and taking i^ossession of the marble balustrades behind 
the judges’ bench. 

Wliile the crowd is still streaming in there is a blare of 
martial music, and the soldiers enter, causing the trespassers 
on the arena to scuttle off in search of a vacant place, to the 
loud mirth and derision of all those who are in the front row. 
The soldiers are a fine glittering throng, tolerably Greek i:i 
appearance, but carrying Koman standards and eagles, and 
headed by a band whose instruments are unmistakably of the 
nineteenth century. They are followed by eight chariots 
bringing the judges, who, alighting at the steps, ascend to 
take their places on the benches. They are all equally vener- 
able in the whiteness of their long beards and flowing locks. 
Then comes the whole stud of horses and ponies, each led by 
a properly classical groom, but not mounted. The procession 
is closed by a motley crowd of gladiators, dancing-girls, javc- 
lin-men, wrestlers, and others ; and by the time the last man 
has entered, the band, having made a tour of tlie two courses, 
have taken their places on the raised dais, and the whole 
arena is full of glitter and color. As the march ends, the 
spectators all round the arena behind the barrier burst into 
a hymn. This has a striking effect on the real audience, who 
themselves seem to be part and parcel of the show. 

Meanwhile, the soldiers, dispersing, take up position at 
regular intervals among the crowd within the barrier, their 
fixed figures and glittering armor standing out well against 
the varied colors of the hustling mob. The hymn is over, 
and the boys are shoving forward to see what is to come next. 
The pause is a fitting opportunity for a round of well-earned 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


147 


applause ; for rubbish though it may be, it is good rubbish 
as seen from the uncritical point of view of the ordinary 
spectator. 

The band descends from the dais, and Fergus enters on 
his thoroughbred in the correct riding costume of to-da}’. 
No entreaties could persuade him to bind his brow with a 
wreath, and assume the chiton for this occasion. He dis- 
mounts and ascends the dais ; he is going to speak, and it is 
generally believed" that he has to announce that there’s a 
hitch somewhere — Viola Dancaster indisposed, or something 
of the kind — and everyone listens to catch his words. 

He begins by blowing his managerial trumpet modestly, 
and then informs the audience that certain envious detractors 
have spread the report that the races run in the International 
have been “ squared,” and that one of the objects the com- 
pany had in view in the production of the new spectacle, at 
such an enormous expense, was to prove that, though foreign, 
the company had that English love of fair play which has 
ever kept our national sports above reproach. (Loud ap- 
plause from national sportsmen.) He thereupon repeats, in 
the name of the management, the challenge already published 
in the newspapers and public announcements, offering a 
check of one hundred pounds to any lady not engaged in 
the company who shall win the prize for skill and beauty. As 
none but ladies could compete, it would be taken for granted 
that all are beautiful, so that the contest resolves itself into 
a trial of horsemanship. The contest is open to all, subject 
only to such rules as w^ere provided for the safety of horse 
and rider. Doubtless among that vast audience many pro- 
fessional ladies have been drawn here by curiosity or a spirit 
of rivalry. The contest is open to them as to all. Every 
facility will be given them by the attendants to leave their 
places and enter the arena, and he concludes by wishing that 
the best horsewoman may win. 

The speech is received with enthusiastic applause, in which 
he remounts and rides out of the arena. In several parts of 
the building there is a movement, and it is clear that some 
“ outsiders ” are determined to try for the one hundred 
pounds. The excitement grows as the grooms lead out to 
the steps a string of twenty saddled horses. 

A Greek herald mounts the dais, and after a flourish of 
trumpets, delivers the challenge to the crowd of Greeks be- 
hind the barrier, who respond vociferously. One after the 
other, girls slip under the barrier, and present themselves as 
competitors ; they are led up the steps to the judges, who 


148 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


present each with a bunch of colored ribbon. By the time 
they have taken their place on the dais, some ladies from the 
audience have come down into the arena. There are four of 
them. They receive favors from the judges ; but instead of 
going directly to the dais, they retire to a dressing-room pre- 
pared for them to put on the regulation costume. A chariot 
race between men fills up the interim ; then the outsiders, 
coming down into the arena in costume, with their colors, are 
greeted with a shower of applause, and led to the dais. Once 
more the herald delivers his challenge, whereupon a girl in 
pale blue, bordered with white, who has hitherto been lost in 
the crowd, passes under the barrier at the further end of the 
arena, and walks into the arena. 

A cry bursts from the crowd, and is echoed by the audi- 
ence above as she is recognized. 

“Irene ! Irene ! ” shout the Greeks. “Viola Dancaster — 
that’s she ! ” runs through the audience. 

The first race is ran by the four outsiders alone ; the win- 
ner is led up the steps and seated in the golden chair above 
the judges. The next race is run by members of the com- 
pany, and in this Nessa comes in victorious — winning easily 
by two lengths. And now the prize is to be contested be- 
tween the two winners — Nessa and the outsider who won the 
first race. Fresh horses are brought in, and the lady comes 
down the steps. The band strikes up, and the enthusiastic 
Greeks strike up a chant in honor of their favorite, the 
burden being, “ Our Irene wins ! ” 

The outsider mounts the mare led up to the steps ; then 
I’Esperaiice is brought forward, and Irene takes the saddle. 
There is a discussion before the starting-place, in which Fer- 
gus, who has entered the arena for this heat, takes part. 
What is the matter ? Clearly the outsider is protesting in 
very vigorous terms. Everyone is straining to catch the 
meaning of it. “ She won’t run I ” “Look, she’s going to 
get off! ” “ There’s some dodge of their’s she’s found out ! ” 

“ Some precious French trick or other ! ” “ Oh, well, that 

shows it’s all a put up thing.” These are the comments 
heard among the audience on every side. Something like 
a decided hiss of disapprobation succeeds the ominous whis- 
pering, when Fergus rides out into the middle, and all are 
hushed to hear his explanation. 

“ Ladies and gentlemenj” he calls, “ the lady who won the 
first race — the champion of the outsiders, as I may call her, 
although she is a lady eminent and well known in our pro- 
fession —refuses to run this heat on the mare provided for her. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


149 


(Slight applause.) Undoubtedly that mare is inferior to the 
one allotted to our Miss Viola Dancaster. Unfortunately we 
have no horse — and it is doubtful if any exists — to match 
Miss Dancaster’s mount. But our Blue .and White— our 
Irene — would not be our Irene if she were not as generous as 
she is plucky. She has offered to change horses and run this 
race with her rival on the mare her rival has refused, and we, 
in the interest of fair play, have consented.” 

“ Irene wins !” shouted an excited young gentleman from 
his box ; and then followed such a burst of applause as Nessa 
dismounted and gave up I’Esperance to her rival, that the 
very place shook to the storm. 

There was a fair start, but it became obvious in the first 
lap that Nessa was to suffer defeat at last. Mrs. Redmond, 
though she took no part in the contest, scarcely breathed for 
the choking sense of exultation as she saw the distance wid- 
ening between the two riders. There was an unusual and 
ominous silence as Nessa passed the starting-place on the 
second lap a length behind. But she never lost courage. 
The mare she rode was the second best in the stud, and had 
carried her home in triumph many a time. She hoped to 
recover the lost ground in the next two laps, and, sparing the 
whip, cried with cheerful encouragement to her mare. Sud- 
denly it became noticeable that the outsider was losing 
ground ; and so she was. But it was no fault of hers : 
i’Esperance had heard Nessa’s voice behind, and become 
conscious that she was not in the same hands. As she slack- 
ened, her rider applied the whip, and the high-tempered ani- 
mal, who never felt the W'hip from Nessa’s hand, resenting 
the treatment, swerved from her course and slackened still 
more. Only when Nessa’s mare was neck and neck with her 
in the third lap, and she was fired to her duty by the roaring 
of the audience, now mad with excitement, she recovered her 
temper and struck out to win. But it was too late ; they 
were close to the winning-post, and there was no time to get 
the pace, and for the first time in her record I’Esperance 
came in second. 

Mrs. Redmond bit her lips through in her vexation, and 
Fergus himself was astounded. Duprez beckoned him from 
his box, and a few hurried words were exchanged as the au- 
dience thundered peal after peal of api^lause. 

Fergus once more rode into the middle, hushing the 
tumult. 

He said that although no member of the company was en- 
titled to take the prize offered, yet the management felt that 


150 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


a race so nobly won called for a signal mark of approbation, 
irrespective of the winners position, and he knew that he 
should be only responding to the wish of all there in pre- 
senting to Miss Dancaster the check that had been drawn 
for a successful rival. 

With that he rode across and presented Nessa with the 
check. 

Nessa, less conscious of her own triumph than of her rival’s 
defeat, without a moment’s hesitation, and absolutely forget- 
ful that she was under the observation of a multitude, turned 
her horse and put the check in the hand of the outsider. 

“ It’s yours ! ” she said. “ You’d have won if I’Esperance 
had not heard my voice.” 

‘‘ By Jove, I’ve heard you are a lady : now I know it ! ” 
cried the woman, who, being a professional, had no false 
delicacy about taking the gift ; but she knew how to make 
generous acknowledgment, and, touching I’Esperance with 
her heel, she trotted round the ring, holding up the check 
that all might see the use Nessa had made of it. 

Nessa was lifted from her saddle, arrayed in a jewelled robe, 
crowned with olive, and led to the seat of honor with the 
band and the throng outvying one the other in her honor. 

“ By — ! she shall be dragged down from that I ” muttered 
Mrs. Redmond, with a furious imprecation. 


CHAPTER XXm 

AT A LOSS. 

The next morning, as Mrs. Redmond was on her way to 
rehearsal, she met her husband. He stopped her as she was 
sailing along, her lips pursed up, her nose in the air, and 
her eyes on the other side of the way. 

“I want to speak to you,” he said. “ Oh, that’s no good,” 
he added, as she creased her brows and jerked her head 
significantly over her shoulder. “Nessa won’t see us. She 
went into the show half an hour ago ; and I thought I’d take 
advantage of the occasion, you know, to drop in and have a 
chat with you.” 

“I sent you the money on Friday — what else do you 
want?” 


BETWEEir LIFE AND DEATH. 151 

“ That’s the very thing* I want to talk to you about. Five 
pounds isn’t enough.” 

“It’s as much as you’ll get out of me, anyhow.” 

“ Oh, no, it isn’t,” he replied, shaking his head with an 
incredulous smile. 

“It’s as much as I can afford — more. I have to pinch and 
deny myself absolute necessities to get it.” 

“Oh, that’s all jolly nonsense. You don’t expect me to 
believe that.” 

“It’s a matter of indifference to me what you believe or 
don’t believe.” 

“Oh, is it?” 

The lines about his mouth took a still more unpleasant 
curve, and his eyes grew narrower. 

“I’ve seen the paper this morning. Seems to have made 
a big hit last night.” 

“There’s some new business to be stuck in; the call’s 
for eleven, and it’s half-past now. I can’t stop to talk to 
you.’’ 

“I’ll walk down to the show with you — not too fast, or we 
shall have to stop about at the door to finish our conversa- 
tion. Jolly big hit. What did Nessa get for that bit of busi- 
ness ? ” 

“Nothing but that check she was fool enough to give 
away.” 

“Rot ! It was all a put-up job, of course ; but you wouldn’t 
be fool enough to agree to her giving away the check unless 
she received another in its place.” 

“ I tell you she didn’t take a shilling of it. Something was 
offered, I believe, but she refused it.” 

“ Gammon ! ” 

“Oh, I don’t ask you to believe me.” 

“Thank you — I won’t. I never did, and I’m not likely to 
begin now.” 

It is not pleasant to a liar to be doubted when lying ; but 
when, by accident, telling the truth, it is still more unpleas- 
ant. Mrs. Redmond’s feelings were unutterable. 

“I don’t ask you what Nessa gets a week, because I 
shouldn’t believe j^ou if you told me,” he continued. “But 
it’s as obvious as the paint on your face that if she draws big 
houses she draws a big salary. As her manager, you’d look 
to that.” 

“ When we accepted the engagement, I agreed to take 
four pounds a week for both.” 

“Oh, come : four pounds a week for Viola Dancaster, with 


152 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


you thrown in aa a make-weight ! You might make a pre- 
tence of telling the truth. Four pounds a week ? ” 

“ She was unknown then. I didn’t say that she gets no 
more now.” 

“Ah, that is what I wanted to get at. Well, you agree 
that she is drawing a big salary, and that she got a hundred 
pounds for that business last night.” 

“I tell you she gave it away to Kitty Lawson — the girl 
from Sangers’.” 

“Well, stick to it if you like. It only proves what I say. 
If she can afford to chuck away a hundred pounds, she must 
have more cash than she knows what to do with. Now, if 
she gets a lot, it stands to reason you get more. It wouldn’t 
be you if you didn’t. The lion’s share isn’t too good for you 
— never was, never will be. Now, what I’m coming to is this : 
if you can let her give a hundred pounds to a girl she never 
saw before, it stands to reason you can afford to give as much 
to the man of your choice. And the man of your choice 
means to have it — d’ye see?” 

The man of her choice would have dropped dead on the spot 
if her wishes had been effective. 

“ As I said before, five pounds a week isn’t enough for me. 
I want a check for a hundred pounds a week on Saturday — 
a check on 3"our bankers, my dear.” 

“ I will take my oath I haven’t ten pounds in the world. 
You needn’t expect any more than five pounds, for I haven’t 
got it, and you won’t get it.” 

“ Then I will take my oath 3"Ou shall see me some time on 
Sunday.” 

“ You talk like a fool. I couldn’t raise a hundred pounds 
to save my life.” 

“ Oh, yes, you could,” he said, lowering his voice. “ You 
could raise a great many hundred pounds if you chose. But 
you don’t choose. You run no risk, and j^ou live very com- 
fortably, and you’re putting by a nice little sum every treasury 
day. You’re getting careful and thrifty in your maturity. 
You’re quite content while you. can pocket the enormous 
sums that Nessa is receiving, and don’t want anything better. 
You’re like a fat, heavy leech, that gets more lethargic and 
lumpy while there is blood to be sucked. But that won’t do 
for me. I’m going to put a little salt on your tail and wake 
you up. You won’t get anything more out of Nessa after 
Sunday unless you give me a fair proportion. Do you under- 
stand me, my angel ? ” 

“ Oh, I understand you well enough not to be frightened 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


153 


by your threats. You’re not fool enough to cut off your nose 
to spite your face. You know well enough that if I get no 
more out of the girl you’ll get no more out of me. You won’t 
sacrifice five pounds a week for nothing.” 

“No, I shan’t.* It will be worth five pounds to see you 
kicked out of the show. It would afford me just as much 
pleasure to see you out in the cold as I get from your miser- 
able fivers ; and how many more am I likely to get? Two at 
the outside, I reckon, if I let things slip on. Look at that 
girl’s success. Why, there was a string of bouquets all round 
the course after her business last night. It w’ould be a paying 
concern to have such a girl for a wife, if she had no expecta- 
tions. But it’s got about somehow that she’s heiress to a big 
estate. You’ve been fool enough to blab, I dare say. Any- 
how, it’s known who she is — Nichols heard it in the canteen. 
It will be in the papers soon ; they grab at every bit of news 
about the popular favorite, and she’ll be nailed by some fellow 
for a certainty. It’s the fashion now for swells to marry pro- 
fessionals. Some sucking lord will get hold of her, and she’ll 
be the pet of society, like Mrs. Thingamebob. But the 
family lawyer will look after her estate and sift her affairs. 
Then what will become of you ? Well, you may think your- 
self lucky if they leave you alone. That’s the best you can 
hope for. But look out for squalls, my sweet creature, if you 
dare to make j^ourself known to Nessa or any of her husband’s 
lot when she’s married. Why, they’d pay me handsomely to 
let ’em know what sort of a friend you are to the girl ; and, 
by George ! I’ll let ’em know if you force me to come and 
see you next Sunday. I’ll sell you if I can’t do better — I give 
you fair warning, mind : I’ll sell you to the enemy. Nichols 
gave you a hint, and you haven’t chosen to act on it. Now 
I’ve given you a hint on my own account, and if you don’t 
take it, so much the worse for you. Ta-ta ! ” 

Mrs. Kedmond had a shrewd suspicion that this hint came 
from Nichols also. It was too masterly for her husband. 
She saw that their motive was to stir her up to immediate and 
decided action ; but she was convinced that Redmond’s 
threat was not an idle one, because the interests of Nichols 
and himself were threatened by delay. She saw, as well as 
they, that among Nessa’s admirers there were many who, 
from cupidity, for a less mercenary fascination, would gladly 
offer her marriage. The woman scarcely needed stirring up. 
Her own devilish inclinations prompted her to take desperate 
measures for the destruction of the girl. The will to do 
murder was ever present ; the means alone were needed. 


154 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Her torpid imagination had no object but the accomplishment 
of that one desire. A sense of her own impotency added to 
her exasperation. The thread of life was so slight, even in 
the strongest man, that a touch could break it ; yet she was 
powerless to put an end to this girl. 

She was well read in criminal history, and knew the parti- 
culars of every murder that had attracted public attention 
within the last ten years. From the newspaper reports she 
had learnt the surest ways of killing. She knew the exact 
places in the human body where the life could be tapped — 
where a knife could be buried, or a razor drawn, or a bullet 
fired. For a few pence she could buy drugs to poison a whole 
family. There was no difficulty about that. With two sub- 
stances to be bought separately, without a question, at any 
druggists’ shops, she could distil in an ordinary oil-flask 
prussic acid by the pint. Poison almost as deadly was to be 
had at the hairdressers, the grocers, the general shops — any- 
w'here, despite all Acts of Parliament. It wasn’t want of 
knowledge that hindered her, but the fact that she knew too 
much. For she had learnt in the course of reading that in 
nearly every case of poisoning the poisoner is found out. 
That frightened her. She remembered the narrow escape 
she had from being openly convicted of administering chloral 
to Nessa at Grahame Towers. And yet she clung tenaciously 
to the idea of discovering some method of poisoning Nessa 
safely — with the infatuation of an ignorant inventor to solve 
the problem of perpetual motion. She could not see that the 
problem was insol vable — that she, with a very inefficient in- 
telligence, was attempting a task that has baffled the highest 
ingenuity of scientific criminals in seeking the means of tak- 
ing human life with impunity. She had actually tried an ex- 
periment in the art of murder. Taking a hint from the 
novelist, she had attempted to suffocate the girl by laying a 
wet cloth over her face. It was a signal failure. Nessa had 
woke out of a sound sleep as soon as her lungs failed to get 
their due supply of air, compelling Mrs. Eedmond to snatch 
off the cloth and decamp for safety. She liked the idea of 
strangling the girl with a cord in her sleep, and setting fire to 
her by overturning a lamp ; but she dreaded the examination 
that must follow at the inquest, and the evidence of the 
doctor, who might have some test to prove that she was killed 
by strangulation, and not by suffocation from smoke. Then 
she turned her mind to killing with the fumes of charcoal, in 
the French way. It would be easy to introduce a pan of the 
stuff lighted into her room when she slept, but, unfortunately, 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 155 

the girl obstinately insisted on having the window open at the 
top. 

It seemed as if the Fiend himself had refused to have her 
for his minister. 


CHAPTEE XXVm. 
nessa’s last race is run. 

The rehearsal had begun when Mrs. Eedmond trotted into 
the arena from the stables. She was always behind time. 
Four two horse chariots were trotting the outer course ; the 
ring-master on his horse keeping pace with them in the inner 
course, shouting instructions as he went. Fergus stood on 
the dais. Nessa, with eight or ten girls mounted, waited 
near him in the course below. Mrs. Eedmond crossed the 
outer course and joined them as soon as the chariots had 
passed. 

The chariots were driven by women. This was an innova- 
tion ; ordinarily they were driven by men. Mrs. Eedmond 
turned her head in contempt as she noticed the feeble way in 
which they handled the reins. 

“ It goes all right, Waring, doesn’t it ? ” asked Fergus of 
the ring-master as the chariots drew up. 

“ Oh, yes ! they’ll manage it well enough by the end of the 
week.” 

“I can’t do it, Mr. Fergus,” said one of the charioteers. 
“ I must decline, if you please ; I’m afraid of the gas stand- 
ards ” 

“Quite right to say so, Miss Melville. It’s a dangerous 
job, I know. And I warn you all it’ll be more trying when 
the tripods are lit. Will any lady volunteer to take Miss 
Melville’s work ? ” Fergus turned to the group of equestri- 
ennes, adding, “ Of course we cannot spare you for the work. 
Miss Daucaster.” 

There was no response. 

“Surely there must be some among you who can drive a 
pair of horses.” He fixed his eyes upon Mrs. Eedmond, who 
he knew was as clever a driver as she was a rider. “ The 
idea is this,” he continued for her benefit, knowing she had 
only just come in. “ When the horse race is run, the chariots 
are brought in, and the herald invites lady comj^etitors. You 
come in from the crowd in the usual way, and the race is run 


156 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


on the outer course. The winner then takes her chariot into 
the inner course, while the winner of the preceding race takes 
the outer course — horse against chariot. There will be but 
one rider and one chariot, and you’ll have the whole course 
to yourselves, and then take the laps as close as you like. I 
need not say that the rider, as usual, will have to be careful 
with the tripods, but the chariot can verge the dais all the 
way round — no fear of upsetting that. Of course, if chariot 
wins chariot will take the prize. Now then, there’s a chance 
for you ; who volunteers ? ” 

Mrs. Redmond looked straight before her, as if she hadn’t 
heard a word. 

“ Surly brute ! ” muttered Fergus between his teeth. Then 
as none of the girls offered to take Miss Melville’s place, he 
said, “Well, Miss Melville, as no one seems to have the pluck 
or the kindness to come forward on your behalf, I must 
ask you to do your best for to-night. There’s no nonsense 
about you, and you can keep behind. No one will notice 
it except myself, and I shall not forget your seiwice. I 
promise you that if you don’t like it after to-night. I’ll find 
another for the business to-morrow. May I ask you to oblige 
me ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ll do it to oblige you, Mr. Fergus ; I don’t mind 
coming in last.” 

“ There’s a good girl. Now then. Waring, chariots round 
again, if you please. Take it a bit quicker, ladies, and the 
first in wdll then do a heat with Miss Dancaster, to see what 
start may be given. Tail off. Miss Melville, when you get to 
the top.” 

“ Further out ! further out ! ” called Waring, galloping 
along the inner course as the chariots neared the top. 

Fergus watched with anxiety. 

Mrs. Redmond put her horse forward, taking suddenly an 
eager interest in the heat. 

The chariot just managed to escape collision with the tri- 
pod, and that was all ; but at the bottom they came to grief, 
despite the ring-master’s warning, the innermost chariot foul- 
ing one of the tripods, and throwing the other chariots into 
confusion. Fergus tilted his hat over his eyes and scratched 
the back of his head as Waring set the charioteers right and 
brought them round. 

“You must keep away from those confounded standards,” 
he called out, tilting his hat back impatiently. “Why will 
you keep all of a lump at the turns? Make your running in 
between, but do, for Heaven’s sake, take the top and bottom 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 157 

wide. I’ll have it over again, and you must keep at it till the 
thing goes right.” 

To the surprise of everybody, Mrs. Kedmond called 
out : 

“Give me a hand down, Fergus ; I’ll tool one of the dust- 
carts round.” 

Fergus helped her down, and without taking off her skirt 
she took Miss Melville’s place in the last chariot, bringing the 
frightened and restive^ horses under control in a masterly 
fashion. She took the inside of the row at the start, and 
kept the others in their places to the finish, for she was not 
less feared than disliked by the girls, and not one dared to 
press upon her at the turns. She won, of course, by a couple 
of lengths. 

“There’s no fear now,” said Waring, as he trotted up to 
Fergus. “One word from that woman is worth a week’s 
shouting from me. They give her a wide berth, and she 
knows how to keep it. A cool, strong hand ; she can do what 
she likes with horses.” 

Nevertheless, Fergus had the business repeated thrice be- 
fore he dismissed the other chariots. Then Mrs. Kedmond 
and Nessa ran a heat ; the chariot in the inner course ; the 
horse in the outer. This seemed to most of the onlookers a 
mere matter of form — to test their relative powers. There 
was not the slightest danger, each having an unimpeded 
course, and Mrs. Kedmond ’s interests keeping her as close in to 
the dais as possible. Only Fergus saw that the woman was 
terribly in earnest. 

As it was a trial of pace to decide what start should be 
given to the chariot, Nessa honestly put her mare to her best ; 
Mrs. Kedmond, on the other hand, kept a tight rein ; but, 
notwithstanding, Nessa only got in a length in advance, the 
difference in the radius being so much against her. Fergus, 
who detected the unfairness on the part of Mrs. Kedmond, 
grudgingly decided that she was to have the start of a length 
at night, but he gave Nessa a word of warning as he helped 
her down from the saddle. 

“My dear, you’ll have to do better than ever to-night. That 
woman means to win. The tiial wasn’t fair, for she was pull- 
ing all through. You can’t afford to be generous, and must 
take the turns a little closer. You can do that without dan- 
ger, and you must win for the sake of my reputation as well 
as for your own.” 

“ Thank you for telling me. I will do my very best. I 
could keep closer in.” 


158 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Then do. Every inch out makes a difference — a foot out 
means a length in the three laps.” 

Nessa’s unselfishness was not so complete as to reconcile 
her to the prospect of defeat by Mrs. Redmond. It had 
seemed so natural to her to win that since her first success 
she had never contemplated the possibility of losing. Such a 
possibility terrified her now, as she realized how much of this 
wonderful happiness she enjoyed was due to her success. She 
felt that she should lose all that made her life so dear if she 
were not to receive the applause of the audience, not to be 
invested with that glittering robe, and be led to that gilt chair 
above the white wigs of the judges. It would break her heart 
to go out with the crowd of girls who had lost, and be pitied 
instead of envied. 

Fergus himself was uneasy about it. From a business point 
of view, ‘it might not be a bad thing for Nessa to lose a race 
now and then, but this consideration was overruled by the 
strong liking he had for the girl and a friendly sympathy with 
her. In the evening, shortly before the call, he went up- 
stairs and knocked at her door. She had now a dressing-room 
to herself. After a couple of minutes, Nessa came out to him 
in the corridor dressed for her first entrance. 

“Just ran up to see how you are getting on,” he said, care- 
lessly, but glancing anxiously at her face. Then something 
unusual and unlooked for in it fixing its attention, he added, 
“ Why, you’ve got color on for the first time ; what’s that 
for?” 

“That they shan’t see what I feel when I’m beaten,” she 
answered, in a tone so dull, so unlike herself, that it silenced 
her honest friend for a moment. 

“ Oh, nonsense ! You are not going to be beaten,” he said, 
presently. 

“Yes, I am. I shall lose to-night. I feel quite sure of it.” 

“ If you do I shall know that it’s my fault. You want cour- 
age at such a time as this, and I’ve just gone and taken it all 
away.” ^ 

“ No. You won’t find me wanting in courage — but I shall 
lose all the same.” 

“ You know I may have been wrong. She may not have 
pulled her horses.” 

“ She did. I am sure of that, too ; for she has not come 
home to-day. She has been afraid to face me.” 

“You are wrong again there. She went out to lunch with 
a fellow (catch her refusing !). Who Avould be afraid to face 
you, I should like to know ? ” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


159 


You would if you were doing me an intended injury. 
I’m not an angel. You don’t knowhow wicked this has made 
me feel toward her.” 

“ I’ll cut this confounded business out altogether.” 

“ No, I will not consent to that. You may think me a cow- 
ard ; she never shall.” She spoke with such firmness and dig- 
nity that Fergus saw the uselessness of attempting to alter her 
decision. 

Just then the call-boy ran up the stairs. 

“ The overture, miss,” he said, and hurried down the cor- 
ridor to the general dressing-rooms. 

“ I’ve kept my eye on the mare. She’s in fine form. I 
su23pose I can’t do anything for you,” Fergus said, offering 
his hand. 

“ No,” she said, as she gave him hers. “ Only j^lease don’t 
come to me when it’s all over. Let me get over it by my- 
self.” 

They parted — Fergus relieving his dejection by cursing 
Mrs. Redmond from the bottom of his heart, and himself as 
well for not openly accusing the woman of foul play and de- 
nying her any advantage in the start. 

Nessa was glad to enter unnoticed among the crowd. It 
seemed to her that the building was more densely packed 
than ever — that more had come to witness her failure than 
had been attracted by her successes. Some of the supers 
recognizing her, offered to give her a place at the front of the 
barrier ; but she declined it. For the first time she dreaded 
the moment when all eyes should be turned upon her. It came 
at last ; as soon as she slipped under the barrier and stepped 
out in the arena, she was recognized by the expectant audience. 
Her name was on every lip — everyone had heard of her gen- 
erous gift to the unsuccessful rival ; all looked for some 
new and extraordinary evidence of her daring and address. 
Never had she received such prolonged and enthusiastic ap- 
plause. Yet it failed to chase away the settled gloom from 
her mind ; the presentiment of disaster hung over her like a 
black, impenetrable cloud. Mrs. Redmond kept her distance, 
and never once dared to meet Nessa’s eyes. 

A groom coming to Nessa’s side, said, in an undertone : 

“ Mr. Fergus says, will you have Caprice for the first race, 
and keep rEsi3erance fresh for the final heat?” 

Nessa assented to this arrangement. It was almost a mat- 
ter of indifference to her whether she lost the first race or the 
last, as she w'as to be beaten. 

There w'ere half a dozen competitors from the audience 


160 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


to-night. The races were run as on the preceding night. 
The outsiders’ heat was won by an Italian woman ; Nessa won 
in the “ International Company ” heat. When the two horses 
were brought in for the race between the two winners, Nessa 
gracefully offered the choice to her adversary. After taking 
in the animals’ “ points ” with a keen, shrewd glance, the 
Italian chose Caprice. Nessa won on the other by a length 
and a half. Nessa was once more triumphant, and when she 
had trotted around the arena a line of bouquets marked her 
course. 

Fergus had aiTanged that the robes of victory and the tri- 
umphal chair were to be taken after the chariot race ; but 
just at the last moment he had changed his instructions, with 
the hope of inspiriting Nessa for the last effort ; so, to Nessa’s 
surprise and Mrs. Redmond’s expressed disgust, on having 
returned to the steps where she started, Nessa was lifted 
from her horse, clad with the tinselled robe, and led up to 
the chair, the collected bouquets being placed at her feet 
and on the steps leading to it. Nessa was glad to sit there once 
more ; but she felt that it W'as for the last time. 

The chariots were brought in, and the challenge given to 
the women beyond the barriers. Mrs. Redmond w^as the last 
to offer. Her victory w’as a foregone conclusion — the race was 
a feeble one, and yet she w’on by more than the length of 
her chariot. Nessa and Fergus knew that she was reserving 
her horse’s strength for the single combat. 

Once more the herald came forward, challenging the crowd 
to compete with the charioteer. A note from Fergus slipped 
into her hand had prepared Nessa for her business. When 
the herald had given the challenge three times and no one 
from the crowd responded, Nessa rose, upon which there was 
a tumult of applause from company and audience. She came 
down from the throne amidst the flowers that covered the 
steps, and put off her wreath and robes. Then TEsperance 
was led in. She patted the mare’s neck, looked round the 
house once more, and mounted. In dead silence Mrs. Red- 
mond brought her chariot to the starting-line on the inner 
course ; then a length was measured, and Nessa brought her 
mare to the mark. Fergus whispered a word of encourage- 
ment as he passed her, and the next minute the signal to start 
was given. 

Before they had gone half-way down the first lap, Nessa 
perceived that Mrs. Redmond was putting her horses to their 
utmost speed. She knew they never could keep up the pace, 
and so made up her mind to reserve her mare for the final 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


161 


lap. In the second lap Mrs. Kedmond was far ahead ; but 
Nessa and Fergus both saw that her horses were almost spent 
with the tremendous effort exacted from them, and that there 
was yet a good chance of I’Esperance getting in a winner. 

“ Now ! ” cried Fergus, as Nessa darted past, entering on 
the last lap. 

“ Now, now ! my dear mare ! ” cried Nessa. 

Up to this moment Mrs. Kedmond had stuck close to the 
dais, taking all the advantage possible of the inner course, 
but now, with a cry of bravado, she drove away to the outer 
limits of the course, as if in contempt to give her rival a 
chance. The manoeuvre was seen by the audience and raised 
some applause from those who admired the audacity ; but, 
before the hands had ceased to clap, a wild scream rose from 
the whole audience. The chariot wheel had caught in the 
leg of a tripod at the lower end of the arena, and had swung 
the horses right round and flung them down across the outer 
course, and in the next instant Nessa’s mare, kept close in to 
the standards, and going at the very top of her speed, dashed 
into the floundering horses of the chariot. 

It had happened in such a brief space of time that few 
actually saw what occurred ; but as I’Esperance limped across 
the arena with an empty saddle, it was known to all that 
Blue and White had come to grief at last. 

She lay motionless on the tan. The color was still on her 
face, but a thin stream of blood flowed from the corner of 
her lips, and when Fergus raised her shoulders her head fell 
back, and her half-closed eyes were already glazed. 

“ By God ! ” he exclaimed, “ that devil has killed her ! ” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

DE. MEREDITH. 

As Nessa recovered consciousness, she heard the roll of 
drums and the strident outburst of brass opening the tri- 
umphal march to which, the night before, she had been led 
to her place of honor, followed by a thunder of applause 
that drowned the music. But it came from a distance, that 
music, like the sounds in a dream, and the stamping of feet 
and clapping of hands came from above, and she was bewil- 
dered with a strange sense of immobility and pain. What 
11 


162 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


had happened ? Had she fallen asleep ? Was the spectacle 
being played without her ? Where were the lights and the 
serried rows of spectators who applauded ? It must be so — 
she had fallen asleep ! For now, her eyes opening, she saw a 
whitened ceiling, a gas-jet flaring in its wire protector, all 
blurred and indistinct, but clearly enough for her to know 
that she was in one of the ante-rooms of the arena, and she 
was lying down. 

“ Ob, I shall be late ! ” she cried, in terror. “They cairt 
do without me. I am called — ” she stopped abruptly'. Some- 
thing choked her, leaving an inky taste in her mouth when 
she swallowed. 

There was a number of voices quite close to her. She 
recognized the voice of Fergus as he said, in a tone of fer- 
vent gratitude, “ Thank God ! ” 

“You must not speak. Lie still. Be calm,” said a voice, 
low and soft, in firm, measured tones that commanded obe- 
dience. Who was it spoke ? She blinked her eyes to clear 
them of the film that obscured her sight. There was a cir- 
cle of men about her, and one kneeling by her side who 
pressed a sponge to the lower corner of her mouth as he 
held her head in the hollow of his arm. She did not know 
the man ; he was not one of the company. He had a close- 
clipped beard. It was still a continuation of the dream. 
But the music rising now as the applause subsided, reminded 
her of the part she should be playing. 

“I must go!” she murmured, in plaintive appeal. “I 
ought to be on the steps. Don’t you hear them ” 

She stopped again, for, as she struggled to raise herself, a 
terrible pang shot through her body, while a fresh rising of 
blood from her throat sickened her and made her giddy and 
utterly helpless. 

The cold sweat was wiped tenderly from her brow, while 
the same low voice said : 

“ You have been thrown from your horse and hurt. You 
must not try to move.” 

Then it all came back to her : the arena, the open course 
before her, the chariot ahead in the inner course, the voice of 
Fergus, as she rushed past, crying “ Now, now 1 ” the effront- 
ery of Mrs. Redmond, sure of victory, taking the outer edge 
of the course to add to her triumph, and almost in the same 
moment as she was putting I’Esperance to her full speed, the 
sweeping round of the chariot right across her course, and 
not a length in advance, the fall of her mare, a terrible blow 
from one of the hoofs of the overturned chariot horses, that 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 163 

seemed to break her body in two, and the fading away of that 
awfnl shriek which rose from the audience. 

She wondered what injury it was she had received. At every 
breath she felt that pain shoot through her bod}'. What was 
the meaning of the blood that flowed into her mouth, hot and 
nauseating — of the cold sweat that chilled her? W^as she 
dying ? Was it nearly over — the short life so full of triumph 
and joy ? Or was she only maimed and crushed — disfigured 
and crippled forever, never again to hear the shouts of ap- 
plause and receive the homage of admiring throngs? Oh! 
better die now than live on to remember a joy which could 
never return ! 

As these memories and speculations ran through her mind, 
she lay quite still, with her eyes closed, as if the eternal sleep 
was stealing upon her. The doctor’s sponge had taken the 
color off her cheek ; her pallor, her stillness, the waxen set of 
her features looked so like death, that a significant glance was 
exchanged between one and another of the speechless men 
that surrounded her. And yet there was no visible sign of 
fatal injury, except the thin line of blood that crept from the 
corner of her half-closed mouth. Almost as colorless as she, 
Fergus bent down and, unable to control his feelings, mui- 
mured, in a faltering, imploring voice : 

“It’s all right, my poor girl, isn’t it?” 

She made no answer ; she had not the strength to open her 
eyes, but there was suffering in her face, and pain contracted 
her pretty brows. 

In horrible contrast with the silence of the grief-stricken 
group, a strain of lively music came in a sudden burst 
through an open door, and the audience in the gallery above 
renewed their applause at some incident in the arena. 

A tear ran down Nessa’s cheek and her lip quivered. 

“ They have forgotten me already,” she said, with a faint 
sob. 

The doctor raised his hand warningly as Fergus was about 
to speak, for he had reason to fear that the slightest excite- 
ment might produce fatal hemorrhage. Even at that moment 
a fresh round of applause caused the stricken girl to writhe 
involuntarily under the smart of ingratitude, and a sharp cry 
of pain was choked by a renewed flow of blood from the 
ruptured lung. 

It seemed to Nessa in her delirium that the thankless, cruel 
crowd was stamping upon her poor, crushed body. 

“ What have I done ? What have I done to harm you, that 
you should so ill-treat me?” she thought, attempting to 


164 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


stretcli out her arms in an appeal for mercy to those she had 
loved, and who had once loved her. The pain at her heart 
was more than she could bear, and all became dark and con- 
fused with the fading away of consciousness. 


One morning she awoke to find herself lying in a strange 
bedroom. She could not make it out at all. There were 
two windows facing the foot of her bed. The blinds were 
down, but the sun was bright upon them. It must be quite 
late, yet she felt very tired and sleepy — so sleepy that she 
dozed off in the vain attempt to recollect whether there was 
a rehearsal to attend to-day. Presently she awoke again. 
Where was she ? Clearly it was not her own room. It was 
much too neat and orderly for that, she reflected, with a pain- 
ful consciousness that she had been getting more and more 
untidy and careless of late. There were French hangings to 
the bed with a crisp, frilled edging. The window curtains 
were draped prettily — not at all like her own, which were 
allowed to hang anyhow. Everything seemed in its place, 
reminding her of the precision maintained in the old school- 
days at Eagle House. Only here everything was so pretty 
and tasteful, which could not be said of the appointments at 
Mrs. Vic’s. No ; she had left school long ago — that was cer- 
tain ; but where was she now ? She felt that she must be 
very thick-headed not to know that. Indeed, her intellect 
did seem to be in that state when she drank champagne after 
her first great success. To be sure ! She was an eques- 
trienne at the International. “Blue and White wins!” — 
and she was Blue and White. If she could only get her head 
a little clearer, she would be able to make out exactly where 
she was. She turned, with the resolution of waking up thor- 
oughly and settling the questions that perplexed her ; but at 
the first movement a dull pain in her side brought back a 
flood of recollections that for the moment took away all 
power of reasoning — of breathing, almost. Gradually her 
ideas grouped themselves into two distinct pictures — the 
arena, with the chariot sweeping round the course, and the 
ante-room, with its whitened walls and ceiling and flaring 
gas, and the circle of silent, awe-stricken men about her. 

She knew that her body was injured. She felt that it was 
encased in a rigid corset of some kind ; and furtively she 
raised her arm, not without difficulty, to her face, with a hor- 
rible fear of finding that also crushed and disfigured. Slight 
as the movement was, it attracted the attention of her nurse. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


165 


who sat near one of the windows a little beyond Nessa’s range 
of vision, reading. She came to the bedside — a young lady, 
not more than twenty-six, Nessa thought, tall and thin, 
dressed with a simplicity that would have been severe on any 
one less gentle than she looked. While Nessa,'with her hand 
still upon her cheek, looked up, making these few mental 
notes, her nurse scanned her face with earnest anxiety ; then, 
with a flush of pleasure, she said, 

“ The doctor said you would wake this morning, and you 
are awake, dear. Your eyes are clear and steadfast. But 
you are parched with thirst, aren’t you ? ” 

Nessa moved her head affirmatively. 

“I have something ready for you. Don’t rise,” said the 
nurse, taking a glass from the adjacent table and bending 
down beside Nessa. “ See, you can drink easily through this 
tube. You must let us treat you like a little child for just a 
few days more.” 

Nessa felt like a little child — weak and powerless, and 
willing to yield. She drank eagerly, and feeling refreshed by 
it looked up again gratefully into the kind face that was al- 
ready fascinating her. They were dark, compassionate eyes 
— the beautiful feature in a face that had nothing else but its 
sweet expression to admire. 

Then Nessa’s curiosity revived, and she asked, in a feeble 
voice, 

“ Where am I ? Not in a hospital — no ? ” 

“ No — you are in my rooms. And who am I ? you W’ant to 
know : well, I am Grace Arnold.” 

“ I don’t know you. I can’t remember your name in the 
programme — Grace Arnold — there are so many of us.” 

“I am not in your company, dear,” said Miss Arnold, 
laughing. “ They wouldn’t have me. Look at me. Who 
would come to see me ? ” 

She drew herself up, turning her face to the light that 
Nessa might see her. She was too thin, her teeth were ir- 
regular, her face was long, and her beauty, if she had an}’, 
not at all of the type found at the International ; but Nessa 
thought that she looked more lovable than any one she had 
ever known. 

“ And if one is not very pretty,” continued Miss Arnold, 
“ one must be clever, and I am neither. No, dear ; I am noth- 
ing but Grace Arnold yet awhile.” 

Something in the look of her face and the expression in 
those two last words seemed to indicate that she was ambi- 
tious of being something more. 


166 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“Where is Mrs. Redmond? Why am I in your house?” 
Nessa asked, after a pause. 

“ You needed attentive nursing — more than Mrs. Redmond 
could possibly give, and Mr. Fergus did not -wish you to be 
taken to a hospital ; so Mr. Meredith was good enough to 
bring you to me, knowing that I have nothing to do and that 
I am fond of nursing.” 

“ Who is Mr. Meredith ? ” 

Miss Arnold’s face flushed, and she seemed to find a diffi- 
culty in choosing words for her reply. 

“ He is a doctor, dear ; very wise and very kind and good 
and thoughtful. He was at the International when your ac- 
cident happened, and happily he was able to be of great ser- 
vice to you. He knew what to do and what surgeon to send 
for, though I don’t think any can be more clever than he, and 
I think you owe your life to him, dear.” 

“ Am I — am I very much injured ? ” Nessa asked, falter- 
ingly. 

“It was a very grave accident. A bone was crushed in- 
ward — there, at your side. And then you were taken with 
fever, and for many, many days you have been unconscious, 
lying like one in a troubled sleep. But he said you would 
wake to-day, and j'ou have, and all the danger is passed, and 
you will get well again quickly if ” 

She stopped abruptl}', for Nessa had caught sight of her 
own hand lying on the coverlet, and was now looking at it 
aghast as she held it up to the light. 

“ Look ! look ! ” said she, hardly above a whisper ; “ this is 
not my hand ! ” 

Miss Arnold cast a swift, scrutinizing glance at her face, 
fearing that the excitement of talking had produced a return 
of delirium. 

“ Yes, dear, it is your hand,” said Miss Arnold, taking it 
gently in her own. “ You can feel mine, can’t you ? ” 

“ But there is nothing of it. I could see my bones through 
the skin. Bring me a glass — bring me a glass,” cried Nessa, 
with terrible anxiety. 

Miss Arnold saw that the best thing she could do was to 
cornpty, and quickly brought a hand-glass, which she herself 
held before Nessa’s face. The girl looked in awe and wonder 
at her shrunk face, terrified by the wildness in her own eyes, 
and then, pushing the glass away, burst into tears, covering 
her face with her emaciated hand. 

It was all over: her beauty was quite gone — color and 
form, all gone ! Nothing but two great eyes there that stood 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 167 

out like some monstrous caricature. They would never take 
her back at the International. It was all over. She felt Miss 
Arnold’s soft lingers passing tenderly over her head, heard 
her sympathetic voice murinui-ing hopefully, but she could 
not take comfort It was too terrible to think tl^at all the 
joy of life was lost, and she could think of nothing else. She 
fell asleep when her grief was exhausted, but h^* train of 
thought was unbroken ; only when she awoke it seemed to 
her that she had realized her position, and brought her mind 
to reason calmly on her condition. She knew Miss Arnold 
was by the bedside, but she kept her eyes closed that she 
might think undisturbed. 

“I shall have to make up like the other girls now,” thought 
she ; “ then perhaps they will take me back. It wasn’t my 
fault Mr. Fergus must have seen that But I don’t sup- 
pose he will trust me to ride I’Esperance again, especially 
now I look such a dreadful scarecrow of a girt They won’t 
want me. I daresay they’ve got somebody else in my place — 
some one just as pretty and daring as I was. I am forgotten 
altogether perhaps by now.” 

A light murmur of voices at the bedside caused her to open 
her eyes. A gentleman was standing beside Miss Aimold who 
seemed to be talking about her. At first Nessa thought that 
he must be Doctor Meredith, but this opinion was shaken by 
his appearance. He did not look like a doctor — certainly not 
like the wise, benevolent, white-haii-ed, elderly gentleman she 
had figured from Miss Arnold’s words. This gentleman was 
young — not more than thirty or thirty-two, tall and straight, 
broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with short, close, curling 
hair, a beard trimmed to a point, and a long, fair mustache. 
He wore a gray jacket, and a flannel shirt with a tum-down 
collar that showed his sunburnt neck, and his silk handker- 
chief was tied carelessly in a loose knot. In one hand he held 
a pot of lilies of the valley ; the other hand rested on Miss 
Arnold’s shoulder, as he listened attentively to what she said. 
It was more probable that he was her brother by his manner, 
and, like her, had no fixed occupation. Still listening he 
turned his head toward the bed, and seeing Nessa awake, 
smiled, and nodded cheerfully. Now Nessa decided that he 
could not be her brother, for his eyes were a clear blue, and 
his complexion good, and every feature regular, and wonder- 
fully handsome, in Nessa’s opinion. Perhaps he was Miss 
Arnold’s lover, and if he were, Nessa thought that they were 
weU matched, for both looked so honest and good. 

“ These are for you, dear,” said he, giving the pot of flow- 


168 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


ers to Miss Arnold ; and then he came close to the bed, and 
taking up Nessa’s hand he held her pulse lightly under his 
fingers while he fixed his eyes intently on her face — his own 
taking an expression of gravity that won Nessa’s admiration 
and respect. 

“Are you Doctor Meredith?” she asked. 

He nodded, still holding her hand, and then a smile break- 
ing over his face he said : 

“ You’ll do now, Miss Dancaster. It has been no end of a 
tough contest this time, but you’ve won again. I shall have 
good news for your friends to-day.” 

“ My friends,” said Nessa, faintly ; “ oh I they have all for- 
gotten me.” 

“Forgotten you!” exclaimed the young doctor with a 
laugh. “Hand me that thing off the table, Grace.” 

Miss Arnold brought an ornamental basket from the table. 

“Look at these,” he continued, taking up a handful of 
cards and letting them slip through his fingers back into the 
basket. “That will show if your friends have forgotten you. 
We’ve had to muffle the door-knocker : they came in such 
numbers. Look at them,” stirring the cards with his fin- 
ger. “Here are friends by the dozen, and some with capital 
good names too ; what do you think of that for a friend ? ” he 
held up a card with a gaudy crest and monogram which 
Nessa recognized as Lord Carickbairn’s. 

“ But I remember as I lay there after the accident hearing 
the people applaud over my head, as if they had already 
ceased to care for me.” 

“Ah, that has been running through your mind ever since, 
and we’ve tried in vain to undeceive you. Now, thank 
Heaven, we can make it clear to you. The applause you 
heard was intended for you and no one else. You see your 
accident created something like a panic in the audience, and 
to keep them quiet in their seats Fergus had the presence of 
mind to get a young lady as nearly like you as he could, and 
send her in upon a chariot with the robes that you were to 
have put on as victor, you know. He told the girl to cover 
her face as much as possible, and the charioteer to drive 
round to the steps as sharp as he could. In that way ho 
deceived the major part of the audience, who thought you 
had simply fainted in the arena and been brought to outside. 
Thanks to the size of the building and the girl’s cleverness 
in keeping her face well concealed, scarcely one in a hundred 
of the audience saw through the deception. It was only 
when the papers came out the next morning that the truth 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


169 


was known. And now you see that the audience was not the 
heartless monster you have been talking about all through 
your long sickness.” 

“ Oh, I am glad to hear that,” Nessa murmured, with 
fervent gratitude in her voice. 

“ And I am glad to set your mind at ease ; for you can’t get 
well and strong with a nightmare like that haunting you. 
Now, is there anything else you wish explained — any ques- 
tion you would like me to answer? If so, out with itatonce, 
because, you see, when we get our mental faculties into calm 
working order — and they can’t work calmly while you are 
harassed with doubts and dread — so that you can govern 
your actions and lie still, we can do without this uncomforta- 
ble waistcoat, and give your body a better chance of recover- 
ing strength and vigor.” 

Nessa thought for a minute, and then she asked, “ Was the 
poor mare hurt ? ” 

“Yes, I think she was sprained pretty badly. I will ask 
about her to-night.” 

“ Thank you ; I was so fond of her. Is Mr. Fergus very 
angry with me ? ” 

“ With you ! I should think not. He’s cut up a good 
deal, for he knows he was partly to blame.” 

“ He does not think it was all my fault ? ” 

“ How could he ? You "were not three yards behind when 
the chariot fouled the tripod. No one on earth could have 
avoided collision under such conditions. Be quite at ease 
upon that point. There is no misconception as to the cause 
of your accident ; and if there were, Fergus would be the last 
in the w’oiid to entertain it. He’s an honest, good fellow that, 
and I’m sure your sincere friend at heart, though I hold that 
he ought never to have allowed such a race to be run.” 

“ Then j'ou think he will take me back again ? ” 

“He’ll be only too glad — when you get strong and well 
enough, you know.” 

Nessa gave a little sigh ; then, holding up her wasted hand, 
she said, in a pathetic tone of self-commiseration, “I shan’t 
be always like this, shall I ? ” 

The doctor laughed ; but the laugh could not conceal the 
pity he felt for the poor girl. 

“Wh}', of course 3^011 won’t,” he said. “You’ve been 
starved for nearly three weeks, and it is but natural that you 
have grown thin and pale. But now you will eat and make 
flesh, and the color will come back to your face.” 

“ My friends would not know me now, would they ? ” 


170 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ We will put them to the test soon, I hope.” 

“Soon ; yes,” she replied, eagerly, “but not yet awhile — 
not till I look nice again. That will be soon.” He answered 
her appeal with a cheerful nod. “ When shall I look well 
enough to go back again ? ” 

“ You may look well enough before you are able to sit in 
the saddle.” 

“ But I shall be able to ride again. Not at once, but some 
day. Oh, do tell me that. I could not live if I thought I 
should never — never be anything but this. I am not so much 
injured — see ;” she moved, and then bit her lip to conceal 
the pang it gave her. 

“ That won’t do, my child ; you must lie quite still. I can 
only promise recovery on that condition.” 

“I will do whatever you tell me — nothing without your 
consent. I will obey you as if I were indeed your child. Tell 
me what I shall do now.” 

“This is famous,” said the doctor, cheerfully, rising from 
the chair in which he had seated himself. “ I’ll give you my 
first ordinance, for we have talked quite enough, and you 
must sleep if you can. Shut your eyes, and think of the very 
dearest friend you have, with a confident belief that there are 
happy days coming.” 

She moved her head in assent with a smile, and closed her 
^yes ; then she tried to think who was her very dearest friend, 
but she could see none but the honest, kind face of the young 
doctor, and with that before her she fell asleep. 

“ We must make her wish to live,” said Dr. Meredith to 
Miss Arnold. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

MBS. EEDMOND ESCAPES. 

When the chariot struck the tripod it seemed to the gen- 
eral spectators that Mrs. Redmond had been thrown out ; but 
in reality her fall was intentional, and she suffered nothing by 
the collision. When she rose from the arena, and, stagger- 
ing across the course, clung to the barrier for support she 
was indeed nearer fainting than ever she had been in her life, 
but it was from the terror inspired in her guilty conscience 
by her own act ; the fear that her intention had been detected 
and that she would be made to suffer for it. As she glanced 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


171 


at Nessa lying motionless under the feet of the plunging 
horses, she had no doubt that her murderous purpose was 
effected; but the only remorse she felt was that she had 
chosen that means of killing her. As the supers beyond the 
barrier pressed forward to get a view of Nessa, she noticed 
that not one of them said “She is dead,” but all exclaimed 
that she was killed. If they said that, it -was because they 
knew she had purj^osely thrown her chariot across the course. 

Sick with fear she crept under the barrier and tottered to 
the exit. One or tw^o of the men seeing her pass, glanced 
toward her, muttering under their breath with significant 
nods ; but no one attempted to stop her. In her unreason- 
ing state of apprehension that surprised her. As she was 
making her way up the stairs to the dressing-room, pressing 
her hand to the wall for support, a couple of the dressers, 
who had heard the scream of the audience, and were coming 
down to find out the cause, stopped and asked if anything 
had happened to her. She had no power to reply, but, mut- 
tering something inaudibly between her chattering teeth, she 
pointed down toward the arena and continued her way. 

But one idea possessed her— flight ! In the dressing-room 
she liuddled on her clothes, wound a woollen -wrap, such as 
the French girls used, over her head and round her throat so 
as to conceal her features as much as possible, and got out 
of the building. She passed several groups of men gathered 
about some member of the company who had seen the acci- 
dent, and escaped almost unobserved — certainly unrecognized. 
It was only when she was outside, and at the moment when 
she was congratulating herself on her escape, that a hand 
was laid on her arm. With a start and a cry of terror she 
turned to find that the man who arrested her was the money- 
lender, Nichols. 

“ You’ve done it ! ” he said, in a low tone. 

“Done what?” she gasped, glancing to the right and left 
to see if they were observed. 

“ Murdered her ! ” he replied in a whisper. “Come on, my 
dear ; don’t stand here. There’s a policeman at the corner, 
and you have not got a moment to lose.” 

He hurried her across the road, holding her arm, and led 
her along the dark side of the street opposite. 

“ Why, you’re trembling like a leaf, I do declare ! ” he con- 
tinued, in a low tone. “Have they tried to arrest you al- 
ready ? ” 

She attempted a feeble defence — fearing treachery on his 
part — doubtful whence the avenging blow would come. 


172 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“Arrest me?” she faltered ; “what for? It was an acci- 
dent.” 

“You stupid woman — oh, you very stupid woman ! what a 
pity ! Such a fine woman too — such a wonderful lot of 
pluck, and yet so stupid. You go and do a stupid thing, and 
then you’re stupid enough to think your friends are going to 
believe you when you tell a stupid stoiy. I knew you w^ere 
going to do for the girl when you left me. I said to myself 
‘That little Grahame won’t be alive this day week,’ I said. 
And I had a kind of presentiment you wouldn’t be able to 
take time over it and do it thoughtfully and nice. Something 
or other made me think it would happen to-night, and I 
couldn’t keep away from the show. It was a sort of fascina- 
tion — just like what a friend of mine told me he felt in seeing 
a regular tamer go into a cage of lions. He was sure the 
lions would kill the tamer one day, and he was obliged to go 
to that show every time there was a performance until one 
day sure enough the lions did kill the tamer. There, that’s 
just how I felt. Only when I paid my money down I said to 
myself, ‘ Well, I shan’t have to go to this expense long.’ I 
felt sure of it. I did, upon my word.” 

The sound of the Jew’s oily voice and lisp, flowing smooth 
and low in her ear made the woman’s gorge rise, but she was 
constrained to listen. 

“But why did you do it like that, my poor woman ?” he 
continued. “Why did you do what thousands of people 
would swear to — the outsiders — people as know nothing 
about circus business : to go slap out of your way and run 
up against a post that any fool who had never touched the 
reins could keep clear of. I know what your idea was : you 
wanted to make believe you were showing off, and that you 
caused the accident by carrying your showing off a bit too 
far. Well, that might get you off if the company would 
support you. But they won’t. They don’t like you ; they 
are all against you. They worshipped little Grahame, and 
they’ll all swear you did it out of jealousy. All London will 
be on their side if it was only a question of professional 
jealousy. But it’s something more than that. Your real 
danger is much worse than that — oh, much worse ! ” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, thrilled with a fresh 
terror. 

“Why, when the prosecution examine your antecedents, 
just think what a case it will be. You aren’t stupid enough 
to think that they will believe in your alias, are you now ? 
Of course not. You know, as well as I do, that they will 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


173 


find out who you are, and I ask you what jury is likely to let 
you off when it’s known that your husband will come into 
£30,000 by the death of the girl, and that you are mad with 
jealousy of her rise in the profession ! Why, public opinion 
wouldn’t let you escape. Stupid woman ! Stupid woman ! 
If you’d only taken your time and done it cleverly, how nice 
and comfortable you might have been for the rest of your 
life.” 

She stopped, leaning against some iron railings heavily 
with her chin sunk on her breast ; suddenly, goaded to des- 
peration by a sense of her own folly, she turned upon 
Nichols — 

“It was you who put me on to this. If I am convicted, 
by God, you shall go with me. I’ll tell all. You shan’t 
escape if I don’t.” 

“No, my dear, but you will escape. If I wanted you to be 
convicted, I shouldn’t have given myself the trouble to come 
round and find you. For your own sake, you’ll save yourself, 
and keep a quiet tongue. Now what do you think of do- 
ing?” 

She collapsed again, and merely shook her head in reply 
to Nichols’s question. 

“I’ll tell you what you shall do, my dear lady. You shall 
go in and get your money and pack up all you want to 
save in one box. When that’s done. I’ll take you home with 
me. My wife will be delighted to see you. And to-morrow 
morning 3 'ou shall take the boat and go to my wife’s mother 
at Hamburg. She will take care of you and make you com- 
fortable till the’affair has blown over. While you keep out 
of the way, there can’t be any inquiry as to who you are, and 
in a few weeks the police will cease to inquire after 3 ’ou. 
Then, when your husband has come into the property, you 
can just come back, present your little bill, and get your 
money — I’ll see to that — and there you are a perfect lady for 
the rest of your life. Now ain’t I a real good friend to you, 
my dear ? ” 

Within twenty-four hours Mrs. Eedmond and her baggage 
were in Hamburg. 


174 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 


CHAPTEK XXXI. 

MKS. BLOUNT. 

One day wlien Nessa had so far recovered that she could 
sit up in bed with a little help, and even change her posi- 
tion without pain, she awoke out of her afternoon sleep to 
find a stranger seated at her bedside in the place usually 
occupied by Miss Arnold. The stranger was a stout, moth- 
erly old lady, with a cap and French curls of white, silvery 
hair, a fresh complexion, a good-natured expression, and a 
pair of spectacles resting on the tip of her nose. She "was 
knitting, and her lips were firmly compressed, giving a cer- 
tain character of decision to the lower part of her face, in 
protest to the lines about the eyes, which denoted a tendency 
to mirth and laxity. A soft, white kerchief round her throat, 
fastened with an antique miniature brooch, set round with 
pearls, and a black silk dress, showed that she was by no 
means a common sort of person, even if her face and French 
curls had not proved the fact. 

After taking half a dozen stitches she glanced round at 
Nessa, and seeing the girl’s eyes wide open, and fixed upon 
her, her lips expanded and her eyes puckered up in a kindly 
smile as she nodded and said, “ Good-afternoon, my dear.” 

“ Good-afternoon,” said Nessa. 

“ Now I daresay you wonder who I am, atid how I came 
here, and all the rest of it,” said the old lady, laying down 
her w’ork and taking off her spectacles, with her e^'es very 
tightly screwed up. “ Well, my name is Blount — and blunt’s 
my nature ! ” She shook her curls and assumed an expres- 
sion that seemed to say, “ Do not make a mistake and think 
I’m an easy-going, soft-speaking old woman ” — “ and I’ve 
come here to take care of you while Miss Grace gets a little 
rest and exercise and fresh air. And now, fust of all, what 
do you want, my dear ? ” 

“ Nothing, thank you.” 

“ Then let me turn your pillow. Don’t be afraid. I’ve 
had children of my own, and nussed ’em through many a 
sickness ; and if my heart is a little bit tough, my hand is 
tender enough. Now, how’s that, lovey ? ” 

“ Oh, that is very comfortable indeed, thank you.” 

The old lady gave a little nod of approval as she stood 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


175 


with her hands folded before her ample person, looking down 
on Nessa. 

“You have a very pretty voice, and I’m glad to see that 
you have very pretty manners also,” she said, with a certain 
degree of patronage in her tone. “Now, would you like me 
to go on with my knitting, or would you like me to talk to 
you ? I would offer to read something, but my sight is get- 
ting uncommonly short.” 

“ If you could knit and talk at the same time,” suggested 
Nessa. 

“That’s a very sensible idea,” said the old lady, screwing 
up her eyes again to put on her glasses. “Do you know. 
I’m most agree’ bly surprised in you,” she added, turning her 
face to Nessa as she adjusted her needles. “ I know what 
you were, you know.” She raised her knitting and shook 
her curls as a warning that she was about to be extremely 
blunt. You were a horse-rider *in a sukkus, for my dear boy, 
Mr. Sweyn told me so, though I could hardly believe it when 
I see you asleep ; and it’s still harder now I see your nice, 
honest eyes open, and hear your voice, and see how prettily 
you behave yourself ; and if they hadn’t told me who never 
yet deceived me, even when I nussed ’em as children — and 
children are little rogues, bless their hearts ! — there, I never 
could have believed that you were anything but a regular 
young lady, born and bred.” 

“ Don’t you think a rider in a circus may be a lady ? ” 

“ Well, they may, my dear ; but in general I don’t think 
they are. I was nuss in a nobleman’s family for eighteen 
years, and all my life I’ve lived in the very best society, but I 
never yet knew any young lady show herself off in short 
frocks, and jump through paper hoops, and carry on Meg’s 
diversions of that kind.” 

“But I didn’t wear short frocks or jump through hoops.” 

“ Then I’m heartily glad to hear it, for I can’t think it 
becoming to young persons at your time of life. My gra- 
cious ! I think it would kill me to see my dear gal Miss 
Grace a-standing on one leg with hardly half a yard of clothes 
to her back ! ” 

The idea of Miss Arnold in this condition almost frightened 
Nessa. 

“Ah, she’s an angel, she is,” pursued the old lady, with a 
slow shake of the head over her knitting ; “ and I suppose 
we ought to be grateful she is such ; but I can’t help wishing 
at times that she would go a-pleasurin’, like other young 
ladies, and take a little more care of herself than she does of 


176 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


others. Has she told you of this new scheme of hers, my 
dear ? ” dropping her voice to a discreet undertone. 

“Not yet,” Nessa said. 

“ No more she has me. She’s one of those who don’t like 
to be praised, or even to let people know of the good they 
do. It’s something to do with young women lihe you — 
nussing, or something — I don’t know exactly ; but, anyhow, 
it means that she’s going to give her time and her fortune to 
doing good to others. Well, she can’t spend her money bet- 
ter, I suppose, than in such work ; but I do hope she won’t 
sacrifice health and happiness as well. A dearer gal never 
lived — nor a sweeter, nor a prettier, to my mind ; and it do 
seem a pity — though I suppose I ought not to say so — that 
she can’t be content to marry, and have a nice large family, 
and servants, and gardens, and all the pleasures of life. How 
is she to keep her husband comfortable, and look after her 
dear little children when they* come, and enjoy herself going 
to operas, and Crystal Palaces, and wax-works, and the South 
of France in the winter if she’s got all these ” — Mrs. Blount 
hesitated a moment between the dictates of high principle 
and womanly feeling, and then letting the latter take ita 
sway, she added, in a tone of deep exasperation — “these 
horrid hospitals and things on her mind ? ” 

“ Miss Arnold is engaged to Dr. Meredith, is she not ? ” 
Nessa asked, with a pardonable curiosity in that subject 
which will render the most prudent young lady indiscreet. 

Mrs. Blount turned round and nodded vigorously, with a 
significant wink and a becoming smile. 

“Yes, my dear,” she said in a confidential whisper; “you 
may say they’ve been engaged ever since they left off pinafores. 
They’re bound to marry ; and it’s high time they were, for 
my boy, Mr. Sweyn — call him my boy because I nussed 
him when he was quite a babe ; and so I did my dear Miss 
Grace likewise, the families being related, 3’ou understand — 
well Sweyn is thirty-two, and Grace is seven-and-twenty come 
May ; and so, as I sa}% it’s high time they married. But, 
you see, she is very rich, and he is very poor, his practice 
bringing him in next to nothing, and i suppose he would 
like to feel a little easier before he marries. For he’s a rare 
manly fellow, as you must have seen ; and I think it would 
fret him to keep up a position suitable to his wife’s bringing 
up, that he would have to pay for with some of her money. 
There, that I think, is the secret of his standing off so long. 
Though there’s no nonsense about him, you know, lovey. 
He’s been to sea as a surgeon, and that makes a man manly. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


177 


Still, he’s got his delicate feelings, being as well born and 
bred as any gentleman in England. However, it will come 
all right in the end. I’ll be bound ; and I warrant it will be 
the saving and the making of my dear gal Miss Grace. For 
though he is a doctor, and appears to agree with all your 
new-fangled notions about women going out to these lepers, 
and Primrose Leagues, and one thing and ’nother, I don’t 
believe when they’re married that he’ll hold with his wife 
sitting up all night in a hospital and leaving him to take care 
of the baby. And you may be sure of this, my ducky, that 
if he don’t like it she won’t do it. If a husband is strong 
and manly, as he ought to be, and a wife is loving and wise, 
as she ought to be, not all the woman’s rights that ever sent 
a parcel of old things wrong will ever take her from her fire- 
side if he’s minded to sit down there and be comfortable. 
Lord ! how I am talking, to be sure ! ” 

“ I fear Miss Arnold has been sacrificing herself for me,” 
said Nessa, after a pause. 

“She has, my dear,” replied Mrs. Blount, with a most de- 
cided nod. “ She’s knocked herself up for your sake. I 
warrant you’ve never found her aw^ay from your side when 
you’ve needed her. No. Night and day she has watched 
over you ; and she wouldn’t have gone away this afternoon 
if I hadn’t come ; and not then if you had been in any 
danger.” 

“Why?” asked Nessa, wondering. “She did not know 
me. She doesn’t know me now. I might be the most unde- 
serving creatui’e in the world.” 

“ That wouldn’t make a pin of difference to her ; except 
that I believe she would care more tenderly for you if she 
thought all the world despised you — bless her dear heart ! ” 
The old lady’s voice trembled, and laying down her knit- 
ting she raised her glasses and wiped away a tear. “ It isn’t 
a craze with her. She’s not one of those poor miserable 
creatures in an everlasting fidget about their souls — like a 
neighbor of mine, with about sixpenn’orth of furniture in his 
house, who can’t rest o’ nights for fear of being burned out 
— who do right because it’s a duty. Her goodness comes 
natural, and is owing to nothing but the loving kindness of 
her heart ; and there’s not a bit of fear or selfishness in it — 
that there ain’t.” 

With these words Mrs. Blount took her knitting, and pick- 
ing up a stitch went on in her confidential and less-emotional 
tone. 

“ She’s not strong, you know, my dear, bodily ; it’s her un- 
12 


178 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


tiring spirit that keeps her up, and leads her on to do things 
she ought never to attempt. Lord bless you ! she’d never 
have sent for me to help her, but just kept watching you day 
and night till she dropped if Mr. Sweyn had not seen that 
she was overdoing it. He wrote to me telling me all about it 
— for I live at Brixton, which is a tidy way otf ; and you mfiy 
be sure I didn’t take long to consider how I should answer 
his letter. Off I came by the very first tram this morning, 
and now I am here I mean to stay till you don’t want any 
more missing.” 

“ Oh, I hope Miss Arnold is not very ill,” said Nessa, re- 
proaching herself for not having noticed any change in her 
friend’s appearance. 

“ She’s not ill, dear, I should hope Mr. Sweyn loves her 
too u’eH to let it come to such a pass as that. But she would 
have worked herself ill if he had let her. She isn’t ill. She 
won’t allow that she is fatigued even, though the glass would 
show her that by her paleness and the dark lines under her 
eyes. She only needs rest, fresh air, and change, and that 
she can get now I’m here. They’re gone for a drive together, 
and I assure you she looked better the very moment she got 
out of doors, and wonderful pretty too, with her fine eyes 
sparkling and happiness in her face as she sat beside that fine, 
big, handsome boy of mine, as I must call him. And, between 
you and me, lovey, going out with her sweetheart, and hav- 
ing him all to herself, will do her just as much good as the 
fresh air and the exercise.” 

“ I am very glad of that. It must make one feel very happy 
to have the dearest friend in the world all to one’s self.” 

“ To be sure it does ; and it makes even an old, old woman 
like me happy to see two nice, healthy young people sweet- 
hearting honestly too. And now, as I look at you with that 
sadness in your face, I shouldn’t wonder if you’re pining for 
some handsome young gentleman that you haven’t seen all 
these weeks.” 

“No,” said Nessa, quietly. 

“ Sure-ly you’ve got a sweetheart, dearie. I mean one that 
you like better than all the rest.” 

“No. There is not one that I care for more than another. 
Not one that I care for at all in that way — as Miss Aimold 
cares for Dr. Meredith, for example.” 

“ Then you ought to have, my dear,” said Mi’s. Blount, em- 
phaticall3\ “Why, every young woman of your age ought 
to have a sweetheart. What have you been thinking about ? ” 

“ Why, I suppose I have been thinking very much about 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


179 


sometliing else.” Nessa answered, with a smile, thinking of 
the passionate delight she found in the arena. But the smile 
died away quickly, and a heavy load seemed to press upon her 
heart. “I must not think of that,” she said to herself, attribu- 
ting the depression to a before-felt premonition that she 
should never return to the International. Still that weight 
lay upon her heart when she turned her thoughts to her 
friends, Grace Arnold and Sweyn Meredith, and pictured 
them together in the sunshine, happy in their mutual love. 


CHAPTER XXXn. 

NESSA EEALIZES THAT SHE IS ONLY AN OEDINAEY GIRL. 

One morning when Sweyn came to see Nessa, he held her 
wasted hand in his after their customary greeting, and a look 
of trouble and anxiety came into his eyes as he looked down 
into her thin face. There was nothing of her, poor little 
thing ! She was not getting on at all. She must be fretting 
about something, he said to himself. He seated himself, still 
holding the slight, soft fingers that seemed to cling to his 
broad palm in mute appeal for help to recover strength. 

“ Do you sleep well ? ” he asked in a tone mellowed by sym- 
pathy. 

“ Yes. It seems to me that is all that I can do now,” she 
replied, feebly. 

“Down on her luck ! ” he said to himself. “No wonder — 
lying here inactive week after week without change after such 
a life of activity and excitement.” 

“ Mustn’t lose heart. Blue and White. Pluck has won you 
many a race,” he said. 

“ I don’t think it will win me any more.” Her voice quiv- 
ered as she spoke. 

“ Oh, that is what troubles you. I’ve been wondering what 
it was.” 

“ No ; it does not trouble me now as it did. At first I 
thought I could not live unless I went back to the arena ; but 
now I think I may live, and yet not wish to run another race. 
I can think of that life as gone forever, now, without pain.” 

He looked at her in silence, unable to understand this as- 
sertion, for her voice, her eyes, her lips belied it by their 
signs of suffering. 

“I have lost heart because I have lost strength — that is 


180 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


all,” she continued, adding, with deeper dejection, “ I am 
only an ordinary girl.” 

“ Only an ordinary girl,” he repeated to himself. There’s 
not such another in the world.” Then after a pause he said 
aloud, “ It would be an extraordinary creature who didn’t 
lose her courage with her strength — something more than 
human.” 

“No; not more than human,” she answered. “If I had 
lived for others and not for myself — if I had some greater 
object in my life than the mere gratification of vanity — I 
should not lose heart. Miss Arnold would never lose courage ; 
it is only we ordinary girls who give in like this.” 

“If you were only an ordinary girl you wouldn’t say such 
a thing as that involuntarily his hand closed upon her fin- 
gers, and its warmth seemed to be imparted to her and send 
a thrill through her heart. 

He drew in a chair to the bedside and seated himself, 
rapidly diagnosing her case the while. 

“And how long has this been going on?” he asked, when 
he fixed his eyes again on the pillowed face turned toward 
him. “ AVhen did it first occur to you that you were only an 
ordinary girl ? ” 

“ It has been growing upon me gradually since I have been 
able to think and reason.” 

“Not quite so long as that.” 

“ I cannot tell.” 

“ I can. These ideas have been growing upon you ever 
since Mrs. Blount came — not quite a fortnight ago. I could 
tell you the exact day by looking at my note-book, for I 
should find there a little mark against your name indicating 
the appearance of symptoms that I could not account for. I 
can account for them now, and Mrs. Blount must answer 
for it.” 

“ Oh, indeed, you are mistaken. She is a dear old soul. 
She has been most kind to me.” 

“ She is a kind-hearted old soul, I know, but her tongue 
leads her into all sorts of indiscretions, and, like most of us, 
she prides herself upon the possession of what she lacks : in 
her case it’s judgment. She has a mother’s admiration for 
the children she has nursed which blinds her to their faults ; 
and as no one can pretend to equal her paragons, you cannot 
expect to be as good as you should be in her opinion. I 
dare say she has told you so.” 

“ She has told me nothing but the truth. Nothing. What 
am I ? ” she asked, with an appealing gesture. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


181 


‘‘A child with a future yet to be shaped,” he answered, 
gravely. “ What we may become, no one can tell, happily ; 
but it is a step onward, some assurance of a higher life, to 
know what, with Heaven’s help, we will not be, and I think 
you have settled that.” 

“ Do you think that I may have refined tastes and delicate 
feeling, and a noble object to live for ? ” 

“ The wish for such things is next to the possession. We 
are blessed or we are cursed as our ardent desires lead us to 
the good or to the bad. Nothing is beyond hoping for.” 

“ Oh, it is good to think that ! ” 

“ It is the gospel of nature — a gospel applicable as well in 
physical as in moral cases. It is better than all the physic I 
can give. Unless you believe it I hardly see how I am to get 
you strong and well again.” 

“It seems so far away,” Nessa said, after a pause, “to 
think that I may be as lovable and good as she.” She was 
comparing herself with Grace. 

“Not so far away as you think,” he said, in a low tone of 
conviction. 

A conflict between hope and fear rendered Nessa silent for 
some minutes ; then she said, in a tone of hesitation : 

“I think I could nurse anyone who was nice ; but I sup- 
pose I ought to be quite as ready to undertake nasty cases ? ” 

“There’s no necessity to nurse at all,” he replied, smiling. 
“Nurses, like poets, are born, not made. You might go 
back to the International and be lovable and good there in 
si)ite of doubtful influences.” 

Nessa replied with a little movement of her head in 
dissent. 

“It is a question of vocation. We should all do that which 
w^e do best. In the humblest station there is scope for noble 
action. Nothing is needed but the desire to do right, and 
that desire you have.” He rose and took her hand again. 
If it had been a woman’s hand, Nessa would have pressed it 
to ker lips in her gratitude. . 

“ You have done me good. I feel so much more hopeful,” 
she said. 

“ If you have anything on your mind, it’s always best to 
have it out with a friend : isn’t it? Grace could give you a 
lot of practical advice. I can only lay down the law in a 
general way, you know. Talk to her as you have talked to 
me.” 

But this was exactly what Nessa could not do. Physical 
prostration made her take an exaggerated view of her own 


182 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


moral weakness and Miss Arnold’s strength, and while she 
considered herself nothing more than a frivolous, j)leasure- 
loving child, she exalted Grace to a position quite beyond 
that of even the best of women. A great gulf lay between 
them which, it appeared, could not be crossed without pre- 
sumption on her part. 

It was not entirely Nessa’s fault that they stood apart. 
There was an instinctive repulsion on both sides. With the 
most earnest endeavor to efface herself and exercise charity 
in its broadest meaning, Grace could not overcome certain 
antipathies due to her birth and the training of early life. 
She conscientiously sought to beat down the barrier of con- 
ventional prejudices which separated the refined and sensitive 
lady from the public favorite of a vulgar exhibition. She 
neglected no opportunity of putting herself on the same level 
with Nessa, and treating her as if they were equal in all 
respects. Her intentions were sincere, but her kindest words 
lacked warmth of expression. Her most generous actions 
showed thought and care rather than the spontaneity which 
wins love. 

But there was something besides social differences — some- 
thing more than fear — on Nessa’s side, and natural prejudice 
on the part of Miss, Arnold that kept them apart — something 
as 3"et unrecognized by either even in her heart of hearts. 

Sweyn could not make out how it was that Grace did not 
warm toward Nessa. It seemed to him that pity alone 
should produce an affection for the poor, broken girl such 
as he felt for her. Her lack of generous feeling disappoint- 
ed him, and irritated him also. He could account readily 
enough for Nessa’s attitude. It was impossible for her to 
feel any real human affection for one whose immaculate 
qualities inspired nothing but a chilling awe. But he could 
find no excuse for Grace, and his feeling of irritation grew 
stronger as he observed that the constraint in her manner 
rather increased than diminished as time went on. And as 
time went on his visits became more frequent, and he lingered 
by Nessa’s side, Grace herself encouraging him, for it was 
evident to her that under his influence Nessa was making 
rapid progress to recovery. He seemed to breathe some of 
his own exuberant gaiety and redundant health into her. By 
the end of March she was able to rise from her bed and walk 
into the adjoining sitting-room. And now she no longer 
dreaded to look in the glass, for her cheek was less hollow 
and the color was coming back to it, and she looked pretty 
again. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


183 


There was no constraint between her and the doctor. They 
talked as if they had known each other for many years. Sweya 
talked to her as freely as he talked to Grace, and as kindly, 
but for a few terms of endearment. Nessa scarcely noticed 
that he called Grace “ dear,” and that he avoided addressing 
herself by name. He was still her dear friend — the dearest 
friend she had ever known, nothing more. 

They talked on all sorts of subjects — light, every-day 
matter mostly. Only now and then when Grace joined in the 
conversation it took a somewhat severe tone, and Nessa found 
it necessary to think a good deal before committing herself 
to any expression of opinion ; but when Grace withdrew into 
the next room, the gossip became very lively and pleasant, 
and Nessa rattled on without any effort whatever. As for the 
serious consideration of self-sacrifice in a hospital or else- 
where, that seemed to be shelved for the present altogether. 

Grace was painfully conscious of her inability to make 
general conversation light and interesting. She was neither 
morbid nor severe. It was not her wish to talk about grave 
subjects. 

Alone with Sweyn, she too could gossip cheerfully. She 
enjoyed a good joke, and liked to treat trifles playfully ; but 
somehow the presence of Nessa tied her tongue and made her 
miserable, with a sense of her own incapacity for genial ex- 
pansiveness. It grieved her deeply that this was so, and that 
she could not love Nessa as Nessa deserved to be loved, that 
her heart would not expand to her will, but, like a zoophyte, 
contracted the more when she tried to open it. 

It needed a slighter power of observation than hers to per- 
ceive that Sweyn and Nessa were more at their ease when 
she left them. It was a relief also to herself to escape, and 
so the distance grew greater between them, but by such im- 
perceptible degrees that neither Sweyn nor Nessa noticed 
it particularly. They might have seen a change in her had 
they been less -happy in themselves. All three were blind in 
a certain sense. 

There was one person in the house though who saw what 
was going on clearly enough, and with growing dissatisfac- 
tion, and that person was Mrs. Blount. She lost a good deal 
of her natural good temper by not being able to speak her 
mind out on the subject. She went about with her lips pursed 
tightly up, as if she feared to open them, lest the truth might 
come out. Whenever she found anything she might find fault 
with, she let off her displeasure on that. She grumbled at 
West Kensington, but she refused to go back to Brixton, 


184 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


though Grace assured her there was no longer any need of 
her, as Nessa could now almost do without help. 

“She’s not the only one who needs looking after,” said Mrs. 
Blount. “And I only hope I may not be wanted to nuss 
you. Smile as you like — and I wish it was a happier smile — 
you are not right. You’re thinner than ever, and more se- 
rious and sad, and,” with pronounced decision — “ you don’t 
laugh natural.” 

She was not pleasant with anyone at this time, but she was 
noticeably less amiably disposed toward Nessa than she had 
been at her first coming. One afternoon she came into the 
room, where Nessa was sitting alone, in a particularly ill-hu- 
mor. Nessa could get no more than a nod or a shake of the 
head in reply to her observations ; yet it was obvious by her 
manner that she had brought her knitting with the set pur- 
pose of staying there. 

It had occurred to Nessa on this very afternoon that she had 
never told her friends who she really was, and how she had 
come to be an equestrienne. It struck her now that they 
must attribute her reticence to a want of confidence in them, 
or to her having done something which she was ashamed to 
reveal. The possibility of being so misunderstood made her 
cheeks burn, and she resolved that, on the very first occasion, 
she would tell the whole truth about herself. She expected 
that Grace would be dreadfully shocked to hear that she had 
run away from school, and got into trouble with the police at 
St. John’s Wood, and been hunted out of Brighton ; but she 
felt sure that Br. Meredith — that dear, generous friend — 
would make allowance for her ignorance and simplicity, and 
see that she was not really guilty of dishonesty. And in her 
heart of hearts she was elated with the hope that he would 
like her better for knowing that she was well born, and the 
victim of cruel persecution, and heiress to a large fortune. 

This pleasant reflection was brightening her cheeks when 
Mrs. Blount broke silence. 

“ I’ve sent ’em out for a drive,” she said. 

Nessa looked up from the page on which her eyes had been 
resting whilst her thoughts wandered elsewhere, and, seeing 
the sun on the window, said she was glad : it was such a 
lovely afternoon for a drive. 

“ Yes ; but he’d have been sitting in this room as if it was 
raining cats and dogs if I hadn’t spoken out,” said the old 
lady, in a tone of vexation. “It’s the first time I’ve ever had 
to tell him what he ought to do. He’d have found it out for 
himself a month ago.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


185 


Nessa, 'wondering, looked 'with wide, inquiring eyes at her 
companion. 

“ Oh, I suppose you have not noticed any more than he 
has.” 

“ Noticed what?” inquired Nessa. 

“ That my dear Grace is growing quieter and quieter, more 
thoughtful, more gentle even than she ever was. You haven’t 
noticed that she don’t watch by the window for her sweet- 
heart to come, that she slips away from the room when he is 
here, that she is growing old-maidish in her ways. I have. 
And it made my heart ache when I see ’em through the blinds 
as they started off in the pony chaise, for they didn’t look 
smiling into each other’s face ; but he looked up at this win- 
dow, and she looked straight before her as if she had no lover 
in the world.” 

“ Oh, do they not love each other now ? ” Nessa asked, with 
a trembling voice. “ What is the matter ? ” 

“What is the matter?” echoed the old nurse, laying down 
her knitting. “ Well, my dear, if you don’t know — and I will 
say this, I believe you are innocent — if you don’t know, it’s 
my duty to tell you before things get past mending. You’re 
taking Sweyn’s heart away from my poor Grace ! He’s fallen 
in love with you — that’s what’s the matter I ” 


CHAPTEE XXXIII. 

BREAKING AWAY. 

It was nearly midnight when Grace, on her return, entered 
Nessa’s room. The lamp was turned* low, shedding a feeble 
glimmer of light on the bed where the girl lay. A movement 
of the bed-clothes showed her that Nessa was awake. 

“You have come to say ‘good-night’ to me,” said Nessa. 

“Yes. It is very late. Did you think I had forgotten 
you ? ” 

“ I couldn’t think that, unless I were very stupid. Are you 
tired ? ” 

“Not at all. We have been to the theatre, and that has 
charmed away my dulness.” 

Nessa could understand now why she had been dull — why 
she was brighter and happier than usual to-night. She could 
perceive and understand many things, her eyes being opened 
which previously had passed unheeded. 


186 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Not too tired to talk to me a little while,” she asked. I 
should like to hear about the theatre and your ride.” 

“ Nothing will please me more than to tell you. Shall I 
turn the light up ? ” 

Nessa checked her quickly 

“ No, no, no ! Leave it as it is, dear,” she said ; “it is like 
the twilight, which is the very best time for gossiping.” 
She had been crying, and feared the light would betray her 
swollen eyes. 

Grace agreed that the half light was pleasant, and seating 
herself beside the bed described at length the incidents of 
her favorite drive to Kichmohd, where they dined, and the 
subsequent entertainment at the theatre, with an uncustomary 
vivacity and freedom from restraint which surprised herself 
more than it surprised Nessa. She narrated the story of the 
comedy, described the dresses she had seen, and entered into 
all those details which interest w'omen — ^Nessa stimulating 
the conversation with occasional questions and observations 
— and ended the pleasant retrospect with a sigh of pleasure. 
Then, after a little pause, she said : 

“ But I think the drive was the most delightful part of all. 
I seemed to grow younger the moment we got clear of the 
houses. The air was so soft and genial. I almost wish you 
had been in my place.” 

“ Do you think I shall be able to get out soon ? ” Nessa 
asked with hesitation. 

“ That is the very question I asked as we were coming 
home. And now I must tell you what your doctor promised : 
if it is fine to-morrow he will come and take you for a 
drive.” 

“ I am so glad.” 

“ Only for an hour or two for the first time.” 

Nessa lay silent for a few moments, then she said : 

“ Do you think it would take more than an hour or two to 
go to Brixton ? ” 

“ Oh, no. Less than two hours, certainly. But why should 
you wish to go to Brixton ? There is nothing but houses all 
the way.” 

“I want to go to Brixton, and I think this is the best time 
to tell you why,” Nessa replied, speaking carefully, for she 
felt that the least slip might reveal what she would not for 
the world that Grace should know. “ Mrs. Blount is going 
home to-morrow, and she has asked me to stay with her for 
a little while.” 

There was an interval of absolute silence after this that 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 187 

seemed very long to Nessa ; then Grace, bending down, said, 
in a low tone of distress : 

“ My dear Viola, I know that I have been very silent and 
dull lately. I cannot tell why, and I feel my unkindness is 
the cause of your going away.” 

“No, no, no. Could anyone in all the world be kinder 
to me than you have been — than you are now ? ” She 
raised her arms and drew Grace’s cheek down to hers, 
which was wet with tears ; then she said, “ You cannot think 
now that I want to go away because I have been unhappy 
here.” 

Grace was so touched by this proof of affection that she could 
do no more than kiss the wet cheek, and Nessa continued, in 
a broken, whispering voice : 

“lam going away because I feel I ought to go, and know- 
ing that you will not ask me to stay, will you ? While I was 
helpless, I could accept your kindness as freely as it was of- 
fered ; but now that I am able to move about almost without 
aid — with no more help than Mrs. Blount can give me — it is 
quite different, isn’t it. I can never repay you for all you 
have done on my behalf, but I may be able to repay another 
for what I take.” 

Grace would have spoken, but Nessa hurried on with the 
argument she had prepared as she lay waiting for her friend’s 
return : 

“ It is not a caprice or a hasty decision arising from foolish 
pride ; it is no more than the feeling of independence which 
might exist even between two sisters. And there is still an- 
other reason : I am keeping you from helping others who 
need your help more than I do now. It is not right that I 
should do that.” 

“ You shall go, dear, if Sweyn will agree to it.” 

Nessa thanked her, crying, and then after a pause, she 
said, impulsively : 

“ Let me kiss you again, for I cannot tell you what is in 
my heart.” 

Long after Grace had left her, Nessa lay awake, her mind 
crowded with a host of turbulent ideas, which she had not 
the will to dispel. Shaped into words, and put in some 
kind of sequence, her thoughts ran thus: “He loves me 
— Sweyn loves me ! He seemed to be perfect — a man 
quite above all men in all respects and all ways — strong and 
brave and noble, just as he looks, with none of the frailties 
and faults of others. I thought a man looking so loyal and 
true, seeming so generous and gentle, could do no wrong. 


188 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


But lie has broken faith with poor Grace — abandoning her 
he has known so long for one he hardly knows at all. He 
cannot love us both ; one cannot cut one’s heart in two. No 
hero ever gave his heart to one and his hand to another. No ; 
he is not a hero. Many men are worthier than he, and I 
must not admire him, and treasure his words, and listen for 
his steps, and try to see his face when I shut my eyes at 
night, with those soft eyes and that sweet smile. Oh ! I must 
never do that again, i don’t think anyone is good except 
Grace. I cannot be good, or I should despise him now, and 
wish never to see him again in all my life. But I cannot do 
that yet awhile. Perhaps I shall as I gi’ow stronger, and realize 
that he is really weak and base. I am sorry ; I am sorry. 
Why can’t we be dear friends for ever without any of that 
other love, as we were at first ? I have never wanted him to 
be more to me than he was then. My feeling is nothing but 
gratitude and admiration and friendship. And it was be- 
cause I have never had a real friend before that I valued him 
so much. He must have filled a great space in my heart for 
me to feel such a void now that he has gone out of it. He 
took the place of all I had lost by my accident. I ceased to 
regret the applause of all those spectators when I had his 
smile. What have I now to think of ? I wonder whether I 
shall forget him when I go back to the International. Oh, 
what a pity that he saved me ! 

“ But I ought to have seen this before. What a blind little 
fool I have been ! Grace saw that he was growing fonder of 
me than of her. I cannot doubt that now. It explains the 
change in her. I might have seen the change and guessed 
why it was if I had been well and had my wits about me. 
It’s scarcely an excuse that I did not. But he has not even 
that extenuation. He is a man more experienced in the 
world : much older than I. Poor Grace ! Poor Grace ! How 
she must have suffered. What should I feel if I really loved 
such a man, and found that he was gradually ceasing to love 
me, and thinking more of some one else ? Oh ! it would kill 
me. I could not live then. I could not kiss that other one 
as she kissed me, for I am not good — not good, not good ! 
I don’t hate him as I ought to. Happily, I may yet be able 
to undo the mischief I have caused. He will not see me 
when I am at Brixton, and little by little he will forget all 
about me— never wish to see me, never think of me, and to 
him it will be just as if we had never met. Why am I crying ? 
Why does my heart ache ? Oh ! I am wicked. How shalf I 
meet him in the morning ? I must not be diflhrent, or he 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


189 


will suspect the truth. Yet how am I to seem natural, feeling 
like this ? ” 

The next morning she schooled herself in the part she had 
to play, and when Sweyn came into the room, she steadied 
her nerves and held out her hand to him as usual. 

“This won’t do,” he said, shpping his fingers from her 
hand to the wrist ; “you’re feverish this morning.” He sat 
down before her, still holding her hand, and looked in her face. 

She had purposely placed her chair with the back to the 
light and drawn the blinds, and she now tried to meet his 
ej^es and maintain a semblance of composure ; but she felt 
the hot blood in her face, and knew that her smile was un- 
natural. 

“Don’t be frightened,” he said; “I know what you have 
been thinking about all night.” 

Had he guessed the truth, she asked herself in alarm ? 

He laid her hand caressingly on the arm of her chair, still 
looking at her with a smile in his eyes, and continued : 

Next to Grace, I think you are the most conscientious 
little lady in the w^orld. The moment you learn that you are 
strong enough to leave the house, you make up your mind 
to relieve your friends of a possible burden; you lay awake 
half the night devising some scheme for paying Mrs. Blount 
for your board and lodging ; and now you are terrified with 
the notion that I am going to order you to stay here an- 
other fortnight. It’s all right, my dear little patient ; j^ou 
shall go for your drive this afternoon, and I will leave you 
with Mrs. Blount and her bandbox at Brixton. There, I 
know how it is with you,” he added, as Nessa smiled wdth a 
sigh of relief. “Though I dare say your symptoms would 
have put me to my wits’ end if I hadn’t had five minutes’ chat 
with Grace beforehand. We both agree it will be a good 
thing for you. You’ve seen enough of these rooms, and Mrs. 
Blount is a dear old soul, who will take care of you like a 
mother when she gets 3'ou into her own hands. And I am 
sure 3"ou will feel easier with the notion of being able to pay 
3’’Our way. Fortunately, I think you will be able to do that 
without bothering your mind about ways and means for 
some time to come. Your old friend, Mr. Fergus, wants to 
settle up with you. He called on me j^esterday about it.” 

“ I don’t think he owes me anything. I was paid on the 
Saturday before ” 

“Yes, but unfortunately your engagement did not end on 
the Saturday ; something is due W what followed. That 
never entered your head, I suppose ? ” 


190 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“I thought you told me that Mrs. Kedmond — I mean Mrs. 
De Vere — had taken all that belonged to me except the 
clothes you were good enough to have brought here.” 

“ Yes, she did take everything except compensation for the 
injury she had inflicted upon you. She didn’t wait for that. 
[Fergus is a capital sort of fellow, but not one to be imposed 
on greatly. He wouldn’t be anxious to pay you either unless 
he felt very sure that he was indebted. The fact is, the 
International people fear a lawsuit, and will be glad to make 
a reasonable payment as some sort of compensation for what 
you have suffered.” 

‘‘ Do you think I ought to take anything from them ? ” she 
asked. 

Oh, undoubtedl3\ The only question is how much : now, 
what would you say ? ” 

He leant back in his chair, enjoying the look of perplexity 
in the girl’s face, and charmed with her unworldly simplicity. 

“ I cannot say ! ” she replied, with a despairing shake of the 
head. “But if Mr. Fergus thinks it was not my fault, and 
that I ought to be recompensed, he knows how much he 
should give me.” 

“Well, 3^011 see his position hardly permits him to be an 
impartial judge on that point. I would rather employ a 
solicitor to arrange the affair, but that might involve some- 
thing which 3'ou would wish to avoid. You see, Fergus is 
firmly convinced that it was not an accident ; and if he 
thought we w^ere going to law, it is probable that he would 
find Mrs. De Vere and prosecute her for the injury done to 
the horses as a means of shifting from his own shoulders re- 
sponsibility for the injury done to you. I do not think he 
W'ould take this course unless he feared that by employing a 
solicitor you intended to get ruinous damages. For, in the 
first place, it is not a thing the International wish to make 
public, and in the second, Fergus has too much feeling for 
you to escape his obligations meanl3\ We have not talked 
about this matter, you and I, but I feel pretty sure, from 
what I have observed in your character, that you have no 
vindictive feeling against Mrs. De Vere. You w^ould not like 
Fergus to hunt her down ; he’d be only too happy to do it.” 

“ Oh, no, no, no ! ” Nessa cried, quivering. “ I am sure she 
did not intend to do it. ” 

“I think you are right. At first I believed with Fergus, 
that she had caused the collision purposely — for spine mad 
prompting of jealousy ; but knowing now as I do that she 
appropriated nearly all that you gained, I cannot think that 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


191 


even so reckless a passion as jealousy would lead her to such 
a sacrifice of her own interests, for she must have foreseen 
that the consequences would in all probability be fatal to you.” 

To Nessa this charge seemed monstrous. Her own obser- 
vation had compelled her reluctantly to admit that Mrs. Ked- 
mond was selfish and mercenary and ungenerous ; but 
though she might accept the fact that the woman was not 
good, she could not conceive her capable of such an enormity 
as that imputed to her. 

“ Why, she saved my life once ! ” she said, feeling that this 
fact alone was conclusive evidence of Mrs. Redmond’s inno- 
cence. 

“Saved your life,” he said, with deep interest in his look 
and voice as he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 
Clearly he expected her to confide in him, but she shrank 
now from encouraging intimacy with the man who had 
pledged to give all his love to another, feeling as if it were a 
treachery on her part toward Grace. 

“Yes,” she said ; “ she saved my life, and I will do nothing 
that can bring trouble upon her.” 

“ Of course not, if that is Ihe case. We will say no more 
about a lawyer. Still somebody ought to represent you. It 
is scarcely an affair that you could settle for yourself, I think. 
Is there any relative you would like to communicate with ? ” 

“I have no relatives.” 

“ Then you must fall back on your friends. Which shall it 
be?” 

“ I have no friends,” Nessa replied, trying to believe that 
Sweyn was nothing to her. 

“ None ! ” he said, with unmistakable significance in his 
low, soft voice. “ Not one whom you may trust to do the 
very best he can to serve you ? ” 

“ None whose service I have any right to claim.” Her 
embarrassment was painful, but the man was yet too honest 
to see the real cause. 

“ Then you regard me simply as your medical adviser, 
hey ; and you will desire me to discontinue my visits when 
you get to Brixton. That’s carrying independence to greater 
lengths than I will agree to. I shall come every day,” he 
said, with a laugh as he rose to his feet. “I shall continue 
my visits till you are convinced that I am — ” he took her 
her hand and held it in silence a moment as he looked down 
with warm affection into her troubled face — “ what I pretend 
to be — something more than your doctor ; ever so much 
more — your friend.” 


192 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

BKOUGHT TO BOOK. 

“ Myrtle Cottage ” was the old-fashioned name of Mrs. 
Blount’s old-fashioned home in Brixton — a detached eight- 
roomed house with French windows and a veranda, a half- 
glazed door in the middle for visitors, a side door for ser- 
vants, a flower-bed in front, a lawn behind with a mulberry 
tree, and be^^ond that a strip of kitchen garden, ending in a 
run for fowls. The house was as bright as green and white 
paint, hearth-stoned steps, polished windows, and a bur- 
nished brass knocker, bellpull, and door handle could make 
it ; and there was not the ghost of a weed, or a stone out of 
its place, within the walls that surrounded the freehold prop- 
erty. Altogether it was a model of gentility for all Brixton 
to admire, and in the summer time a perfect oasis in the 
midst of that desert of bricks and mortar. 

Mrs. Blount had sent for a four-wheeled cab the moment 
it was decided that Nessa might be removed, and getting 
home quite two hours before her new visitor’s arrival, had 
satisfactorily completed all arrangements for her reception. 
The maid was in her afternoon cap and white starched 
apron, with a face as shiny as the door handle ; in the sitting- 
room, the dining-room, and Nessa’s bedroom fires were 
burning brightly, with not an unswept cinder on the hearth ; 
tea-things, with all sorts of delicacies, were laid on a spot- 
less white cloth ; the best copper kettle was steaming vig- 
orously on the hob ; the canary was shrieking his shrillest ; 
and Mrs. Blount beamed over all with satisfaction and kind- 
ness. Sweyn had brought Nessa in a hansom ; he dismissed 
the cab and stopped there. His presence relieved Nessa 
from the sense of constraint she dreaded in being left alone 
with Mrs. Blount, for in her weakness she was painfully 
conscious of a feeling of banishment which she had unwit- 
tingly brought upon herself. She had burst into tears, she 
knew not why, in parting with Grace. “I’m always crying 
now ; I never used to,” she said to herself. 

When she was seated in the cab she said to Sweyn, “lam 
afraid you will find me very dull.” 

“I can’t expect you to be talkative,” he replied, quietly. 
“ Coming into the fresh air after such a long period of con- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


loa 

fineineDt must have the effect of liberty upon a prisoner. I 
will do all the talking* ; don’t trouble yourself even to think.” 
And he had chatted the whole way so pleasantly that she 
had forgotten herself and her troubles under the charm of 
listening to his voice. He rattled on at teatime full of boy- 
ish fun and plajdul humor, so that no one could entertain a 
serious thought while he was there. 

“I do like to hear a man laugh heartil}*, don’t you, my 
dear?” said Mrs. Blount on returning to the room after 
closing the front door upon Sweyn. “ There’s something so 
honest and wholesome about it ; it’s a good sign, ducky, and 
something more than most signs, for sure-ly no one could do 
an unhandsome thing and keep a light heart.” 

She had the good taste or the good sense, which is nearly 
the same thing, to make no further reference to Swejn ; but 
long after Nessa had gone to bed the good old lady sat with 
her knitting in her lap, congratulating herself on the step she 
had taken, and flattering herself with the reflection that she 
was not yet too old to guide these j'oung people into the path 
of true happiness. 

It was natural that Sweyn should come the next day to 
make sure that Nessa was going on favorably under the new 
conditions, and Mrs. Blount was far too reasonable to object 
to his visiting frequently while the matter of compensation 
was in discussion, for business will justify all sorts of things 
which were otherwise unwarrantable, but when the affair was 
quite concluded and Sweyn continued to drop in with un- 
abated frequency, she felt that it was time for her to speak 
out and let him know exactly what she thought about his 
behaviour. It happened, providentially as it seemed to her, 
that on the day she came to this decision she was alone in the 
house when Sweyn knocked at the door. She received him 
with such unusual severity in her look and manner that he 
took alarm at once. 

“ Nothing has happened — she isn’t worse ? ” he asked in an 
anxious undertone. 

“Miss Dancaster has gone out for a little walk with Betsy. 
She is well enough for that. Come in here, Mr. Sweyn ; I 
have something very serious to talk to you about.” 

Sweyn followed her into the sitting-room cheerfull}'. 

“Have those little vagabonds been chalking the gate 
again ? ” he asked. 

“It’s a more serious matter than that on my mind, and 
one that concerns your happiness quite as much as mine, so 
you must not mind if I speak very plainly ; and you must 


194 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


not be more angry with me than you can help if I say what 
may be very unpleasant for you to hear.” 

He had been lectured so often in that tone on the necessity 
of wearing flannel and taking care of himself generally that 
this preamble gave him no anxiety except to keep a grave face. 

‘‘Now, first I must speak about Miss Dancaster — a young 
woman whom I respect very much — far more than ever I 
thought I could respect a circus rider.” 

“ What about her ? ” Sweyn asked, raising his head with 
sudden interest. 

“My bo3% she is very unhappy.” 

“ I know she is,” he answered, quicklj". 

“You have found that out.” 

“ Certainly I have. There is a marked change in her. She 
is going back again — not physically, for she is undoubtedly 
stronger than she was, but in a sense of tranquillity and hap- 
piness.” 

Mrs. Blount answered with an emphatic nod. 

“ She was bright and lively at Kensington — especially in 
the latter part of the time there. She seemed quite happy 
and at ease there. Now all this is changed. There is con- 
straint in her manner ; she is nervous, self-conscious, anxious 
to appear better than she is.” 

“ Quite true.” 

“ If I were not sure that her general health was improved 
I should say that Brixtou does not agree with her.” 

“ Best assured it isn’t that. There’s no healthier place in 
the world than Brixton.” 

“ Then it must be as you say — she is unhappj". But I see 
no reason for that change. She has not received any visit or 
letter to cause her uneasiness ? ” 

“ To my certain knowledge, she hasn’t seen any one here, 
nor had any letters.” 

“ Then I can’t understand it,” he said, despondingly. 

“I can, Mr. Sweyn,” said the old ladj^ bringing her hand 
down flat on the table. “ I saw the beginning of this trouble 
before you did. It began the night before she left Kensing- 
ton. I daresay you don’t know w^hy she came here.” 

“It was some notion of independence, I believe.” 

“It was nothing of the kind. She had no narrow motives 
of the sort, but a generous feeling that does her the greatest 
credit. She asked me to take her away from there for the 
sake of our dear Grace — asked me to help her because, poor 
thing, she couldn’t help herself. She’s an innocent, sweet, 
noble young creature : that’s what she is.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 195 

Sweyn’s face flushed, as if this tribute had been made to 
himself. 

“She was as unconscious as you are of the harm she was 
doing to Grace, and that’s why she was happy and blithe, 
dear soul! Her unhappiness began w’hen she learnt the 
truth.” 

“ Harming Grace ! What do you mean.? ” asked Sweyn in 
bewilderment. 

“I mean this, Mr. Sweyn: she learn’t that she — uncon- 
sciously I am sure — had been winning your love awa^' from 
Grace. 

“ Good heayens I ” exclaimed Sweyn, starting as if he had 
been struck ; “ who told her that ? ” 

“ Not Grace, you may be sure, though she knew it, dear 
creature — as you might have seen if you’d had an old woman’s 
eyes in your head — as you will see it plain enough now that 
you know the truth.” 

“ Who told her that ? ” Sweyn repeated, sternly. 

“ I told her,” said Mrs. Blount, with ^mide in her own cour- 
age. 

“Then you did a great wrong. A cruel wrong,” said he, 
fiercely, and white with suppressed anger. Mrs. Blount was 
dismayed. The accuser suddenly found herself the accused. 
“You have done a cruel thing,” he repeated harshly, as he 
paced impatiently across the room. 

“ It is the first time you ever accused me of being cruel,” 
whimpered the old lad}', her pride, courage, and resolution 
all giving way under this terrible verdict. 

“ You have been cruel to this j^oor girl from a mistaken 
feeling of kindness to me. You have made her sufier in 
order to spare me. You believed I was wantonly amusing 
myself ; that my feeling for Miss Dancaster was an idle 
fancy which I should forget w'hen I ceased to see her; and 
you chose to expose her rather than me to the unhappiness 
of this knowledge.” He paused a moment, then, turning 
upon her, continued : “ If this is a fact that Grace has suf- 
fered neglect by my interest in Miss Dancaster, and I have 
been blind enough not to see it in my thoughtlessness, you 
ought to have opened my eyes — not hers. By your own 
showing she knew nothing of this before you told her — her 
happiness proves it ; she would have known nothing and been 
happy still if you had not told her — if this gradual forget- 
fulness had been left to her and not to me. If carelessness 
was to be punished by remorse, I alone should be punished.” 

“ You’re too hard upon me my dear, dear Mr. Sweyn — you 


196 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


are indeed. It hasn’t gone so far but that it may be remedied. 
You’ve only got to come, say once in three days, and then 
once a week, and after that once a month, and I warrant 
you’ll get over it by the end of that time, and won’t care to 
come any more.” 

“ You women would always spare the man,” he said, bit- 
terly. But how about the girl? ” 

“ Lord, my boy, in my young days I had a dozen sweet- 
hearts and forgot ’em all, and w'e don’t know that Miss Lan- 
caster cares for 3'ou. Indeed I think she would hardly pre- 
sume to think of such a thing.” 

“And if she does,” he said with fierce sarcasm, “ what then ? 
She’s only a ‘circus rider.’” 

“ What am I to do ? ” asked the poor old ladj', melting into 
tears under her beloved Sweyn’s harshness. 

Sweyn seemed to have no pity for her — he who never before 
had looked angrily upon her. He suffered her to whim- 
per in silence as he paced firmly up and down the little room 
with knitted brows and compressed lips. He came to a stand 
at length, and taking up his hat from the couch where he 
had carelessly thrown it, said : “ Do not breathe one word of 
what has passed between us to Miss Lancaster.” 

“ Of course I won’t, dear. Thank goodness, Grace knows 
nothing about it.” 

“But she must know; and I must tell her,” he replied, 
going toward the door. He was going away in anger with- 
out even a word of farewell. 

“ Sweyn— my boy Sweyn,” sobbed the old lady, stretching 
out her hands. 

He turned round quicklj’, took her hands in his, and 
pressed them in forgiveness. 


CHAPTEB XXXV. 

THE OLD ENEMY. 

Whth such remorseful self-questioning as an honest man 
imposes, in finding that want of foresight and self-restraint 
may have destroyed the peace of an innocent woman, Ssvejn 
paced up and down the path before Myrtle Cottage until he 
caught sight of Nessa and her maid in the distance. Then 
the flash of joy and tender emotion that thrilled his heart 
answered the question whether his feeling for Nessa was an}*- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


197 


thing more than professional interest and the permissable af- 
fection of a friend. He did love her ; his heart went out 
toward her as it had never gone to any other. How grace- 
ful, how perfectly beautiful, she looked ; and how in harmony 
with this lovely face and figure were the heart and soul within 
her ! Surely no man could know her without loving her, he 
»aid to himself as he strode to meet her. 

There was a little flush of color in her cheek, and her eyes 
were the deeper and more beautiful for the shadow of trouble 
in them as they met his. The sympathy of a secret sorrow 
made the man and woman dearer to each other — a sympathy 
that each strove to conceal as they walked side by side, ex- 
changing the commonplace observations that people drop into 
under such conditions. 

Nessa felt better — very much — better for her walk. 

“ You look almost yourself again,” he said. 

“Indeed, there is nothing the matter with me now. I have 
not taken any tonic for a week ; and, you see, I am taking 
exercise without the doctor’s orders.” 

“ Yes, I think you can do without a doctor now. I am the 
more pleased,” he added, after a little pause, “ because I pro- 
pose going away for some time.” 

He cast a quick glance at her to see what effect this an- 
nouncement produced. He could not tell whether the expres- 
sion in her face was one of regret or satisfaction — the one 
followed the other so quicklj". 

“You are going awa}^” she said, with as much indifference 
as she could assume. 

“ Yes. I have not seen my brother for a long while — he 
lives in Yorkshire, you know — and he tells me in a letter that 
came this morning his child is ailing, and he would like me 
to see if I can do any good ; and I think I ought to go.” 

“I should be veiy unhapp3" if j’^ou staj^ed here on my 
account, because I can do quite well alone now ; thanks to 
you and Grace.” 

“ Yes. I will pack up and be off to-night. But you will 
write to me if you want me, either as a doctor or as a friend. 
Here is the address.” He put his brother’s letter in her 
hand as they stopped before the gate. How quickly they 
had reached it ! “ You promise me that, don’t j^ou? ” 

“I will write if I have any need to write. Are you coming 
in to see Mrs. Blount ? ” 

“ No. I have seen her and told her I was going. Good- 
by!” 

“ Good-by I ” 


198 


BETWEEN LIFE ANl) DEATH 


And with no further words than that they parted ; but 
there was something* in the clasp of their involuntary cling- 
ing hands more significant than speech — something which 
dwelt in their minds long, long after. 

She had promised to write to him if she wanted him ; but, 
if she had kept that promise, she would have written to him 
that night, and again and again, ever more often as time went 
on. The visits she had partly dreaded she now looked back 
upon as we look back upon the days of happiness that can 
never return. 

She knew that he was gone away for good. She suspected 
the truth; that he had found out his danger, and fled for 
safety. He was lost to her forever. She might think of him 
and love him, now that they were parted ; and, though the 
pain was cruel, she did think of her love for him and of his 
love for her. 

Her life was now quite eventless ; and without occupation 
— without anything to look forward to — it became intolerably 
dull. Brixton is not a lively place at any time ; but when the 
sky is overcast, as it was at this time for many days in suc- 
cession, and the mud is deep everywhere, it is dreary and 
dispiriting. And there was nothing in the home life to give 
a fresh turn to Nessa’s thoughts. Mrs. Blount was always the 
same ; she prided herself upon this invariability. Everything 
went, in her admirably ordered household arrangements, 
with the regularity and precision of a nicely balanced piece 
of machinery. It was terribly monotonous and fatiguing to 
Nessa, who was young, and naturally inclined to variety and 
change. Mrs. Blount’s friends were naturally chosen for 
qualities like her own ; and a more respectable, uninteresting 
set of people never met. Their conversation never extended 
beyond local topics, servants, ailments, and the weather. 
There could be no sympathy, or community of ideas and feel- 
ings, between them and Nessa. It was known that Nessa had 
been a “ circus rider,” and she was looked upon with some- 
thing of awe and suspicion, tempered by pious charity. If 
Mrs. Blount had harbored a “ black man,” the feeling with 
regard to him and Nessa would have been much the same. 
Nothing could make either white, and their welfare here be- 
low depended on a gloomy and sectarian view of things in 
general. 

Grace called sometimes and spent the afternoon at Myrtle 
Cottage. Sweyn had told her all before he went away, exciting 
her deepest respect and admiration for Nessa. But her feel- 
ing was purely intellectual. She could not love the girl ; 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


199 


the woman within her was too strong for that, and despite 
her will, she was jealous of her rival. Nessa, also, was now a 
woman, and the constraint that existed between them, and 
could never be overcome, was as much due to her own love 
of Sweyn as to the human fault in Grace’s character. And so 
there was nothing to give Nessa a zest for life. 

One day she went out alone, and, taking a cab, drove to 
Arcadia, and with some return of the old feeling of delight 
and expectation, she caught sight of the familiar building. 
The doors were closed. The International Company had 
gone. There was a look of neglect and abandonment in the 
place that made her heart sink. 

The rain had soaked the placards on an adjacent hoarding, 
and some of the more recent posters being stripped down, 
revealed part of an old parti-colored bill, on which she dis- 
tinguished part of the headline, “ Blue and White wins.” 
She returned to Brixton in deep dejection. “ W'ho cares for 
me now ? ” she asked herself. 

There were a few people, however, who constantly thought 
of her with anxiety, and among those was IVIr. Nichols, the 
money-lender. He was unremitting in his inquiries about 
her. Whilst her condition was precarious, he contented him- 
self with such scraps of information as were to be picked up 
at the bar of the canteen ; but when it was announced that 
she was out of danger, he thought it advisable to put himself 
to greater expense, with a view to getting a more definite un- 
derstanding. 

“ So you’re going away from us next week, Mr. Fergus,” he 
said, buttonholing that gentleman, one slack evening toward 
the end of the season. 

“ Shut up here on the 30th, and open in Paris on the 6 th 
of April.” 

“ Well, we’ll have a bottle of wine, just to drink you 
good luck. Try one of these cigars, my dear boy.” 

Fergus accepted a cigar, and seated himself ; he was always 
ready to talk “shop ” on those terms. 

“ I suppose you’ll have Miss Dancaster over there as soon 
as she can sit in the saddle?” 

“No such luck, I’m afraid,” said Fergus with a sigh, as he 
cut his cigar. 

“ Dear me ; don’t 3^011 think she’ll ever get over it, then ? ” 

“ Oh, she’ll get over it all right. Her medical man admits 
that she’s likely to be as well as ever she was in a few weeks, 
but — ” Fergus shook his head slowl}". 

“You can’t agree with him,” suggested Nichols. 


200 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Fergus shrugged his shoulders, seeming disinclined to con- 
tinue the subject, but the sight of the chaini^agne loosened 
his tongue. 

“ I’ve no reason to disagree with liis opinion, for I haven’t 
seen the little woman once since she was carried out of 
this place. Here’s luck ! ” They nodded and drank. “In 
fact,” pursued Fergus, warming with the wine, “I’ve every 
reason to believe that he’s right ; for he wouldn’t have let her 
sign a paper freeing us from all further responsibility if she 
hadn’t got past all danger.” 

“Had to pay compensation, hey?” asked the Jew, in a low 
tone. 

“Two hundred pounds, besides a handsome fee to the doc- 
tor for his services.” 

Nichols gave a whistle, and pulled a long face in condo- 
lence. 

“ That’s what it’s cost us, and I consider we’ve got off cheaj). 
Got the receipt to-da}^ and glad to get it.” 

“ But what makes you think she won’t come back to the 
business?” 

“She’s found some jolly good friends, and they won’t let 
her.” 

“ What a pity ! what a pity ! what a pity ! ” said Nichols, 
raising his fat hands. 

“ That’s what I think when I look at our thin house. But 
when I think what a dear, nice little lady she is, I cannot re- 
gret it. She’s a lump too good for this life — especially with 
such a woman for a friend as she found.” 

“I know the one you mean. How did they manage to 
come together — them two ? ” 

“ Don’t know. Don’t know anything about them. How- 
ever, she’s in good hands now, and I shouldn’t be a bit sur- 
prised if that young doctor makes her his wife by the way he 
takes care of her ; and I hope he may, for I respect them 
both— hanged if I don’t ! ” AVith this Fergus rose, tossed off 
his glass, and with a hurried shake of the hand, left Nichols, 
and ran off to his duties. 

This was great news indeed. If the doctor did marry Nessa, 
then Mr. Nichols might have to pay quite as much for her 
life insurance as it was worth. He went home, and wrote at 
once to the relative in Hamburg, to whom he had sent Mrs. 
Bedmond after the catastrophe, to know if the woman was 
still staying with her. By return of post, he learnt that Mrs. 
Kedmond, soon after her arrival had engaged herself as a 
vocalist in a “ Tingle-Tangle a kind of cafe chantant, fre- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


201 


quented by sailors of all nations — where, in consideration of 
her lofty bearing, she was known as the “Duchess.” Since 
then she had left Hamburg and gone to Liege, where she was 
well-known in the drinking-shops along the riverside as “La 
Duchesse de Tingle-Tangle.” Nichols wrote to some of his 
fraternity in that improvident city, offering ten pounds for 
an I O U, signed by Mr. Redmond, in the possession of the 
Duchess, and W'aited the result with the patience of his tribe. 

“ La Duchesse de Tingle-Tangle,” in a low-necked dress 
with a very short skirt, had sung her song, and was going 
round with the plate for contributions from the audience, 
when a long-nosed youth in the farther corner of the Cafe des 
Jiosignoles patted the seat by his side, and asked her, in 
passable English, what she would drink. She accepted the 
invitation at once, told the seedy gargon to bring her a punch, 
and counting the sous and two-centime pieces, with which 
the not too generous Walloons had rewarded her vocal enter- 
tainment, listened to her admirer’s compliments. When the 
conversation took a turn, the young man asked her if she 
knew an English lady, in the same profession with herself, 
who Avas acquainted with a Mr. Redmond, of England. The 
Duchess ceased to count her coppers, and looking at the 
young man with awakened interest, signified that she did 
know' the lady in question ; whereupon her companion in- 
formed her that he was a bill discounter, and w'ould give as 
much as a hundred francs for an I O U, signed by Mr. Red- 
mond. The Duchess was badly in want of a hundred francs, 
but the fact that the paper w’as in demand was sufficient to 
make her warj' in accepting the price offered for it. She 
tried in vain to find out why the young man w'anted it ; his 
natural wariness, and the difficulty of making themselves 
understood, either in bad French or bad English, made a 
clear understanding impossible. She promised to give him 
an answer next evening ; and the bell having summoned her 
to the platform to sing her next song, they parted. Later in 
the evening, a long-nosed, elderly gentleman offered her a 
drink, and made nearly the same proposal as that of the 
young man. The Duchess put him off to the next day. 
Before the close of the performance, a third gentleman with 
adong nose treated her to punch, and went up as high as one 
hundred and twenty-five francs in his offer for the I O U. 
He, also, was told to call again ; but, by that time, the 
Duchess had determined that she would not sell the paper at 
all, feeling sure that nothing but the death of Nessa could ac- 
count for this activity on the part of the Jew money-lender. 


202 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


She had nothing in the world but the receipts of the evening, 
amounting to 2 fr., 82 c., or she would have started at once 
to London on the stinngth of this conviction. All she could 
afford was 25 c. for a postage-stamp, and this she put on a 
letter to Nichols, asking for information. He chuckled over 
the letter, but did not for a moment dream of answering it. 
Eeceiving no reply, Mrs. Eedmond’s conviction was confirmed. 
Nessa was dead ; and Eedmond, counting upon her state of 
poverty, had set the Jew to purchase the I O U for a few 
pounds. How she got the money it is impossible to say, but, 
by the end of the week, she had sufficient to pay her fare to 
-London ; and on Monday morning Nichols had the satisfac- 
tion of finding her waiting to see him in his office. 

“Bless my soul ! ” he exclaimed, affecting the utmost sur- 
prise ; “whatever has made you come to London ? ” 

“ I’ll tell you straight,” she replied. “ I’ve had a dozen 
offers for that I O U.” 

“ What a luck}" woman, to be sure. And you’ve got the 
money, and come back to spend it with me.” 

“ I’m not such a fool as you think. Catch me parting with 
it!” 

“ What ! you haven’t sold it ? ” 

“ Not I. Look here. I hadn’t enough to get me decent 
food, and I was offered two hundred francs for the paper, but 
I wouldn’t take it.” 

“ Oh, what a pity — what a pity 1 ” he groaned. “ How silly 
not to take eight pounds, how very silly — and such a fine 
woman too 1 ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, that I O U ain’t worth eighteenpence. Eedmond 
ain’t got a bit o’ shoe to his foot respectable, and never will 
have ; so he ain’t likely to buy up his paper ; and here’s Miss 
Grahame as lively as a cricket, and going to marry a young 
doctor well to do, who’ll see she gets her property safe, as 
sure ns justice is to be had for money. Two liundred francs 
— eight pound for that bit of paper — and you refused it. Oh, 
what a silly woman — and so ’andsome 1 ” 

“ I won’t believe it. The girl is dead.” Mrs. Eedmond 
said in desperation. 

“ My dear lady, go to Somerset House and see for yourself. 
Bring me a copy of the certificate of death, and I’ll pay your 
expenses — there ! ” 

The woman sank down on a chair, overcome by this last 
shock. 

“ I’ll do more than that,” he continued ; “ if you show me 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


203 


that she is dead, I’ll give you ten thousand pounds within 
twenty-four hours for that I O U.” 

Suddenl 3 % goaded to desperation, she turned upon the 
money-lender. 

I’ll do it yet,” she cried ; “ give me some money and tell 
me where I can find her, and I take my oath ” 

He checked her. “No, my dear lad}', never no more. I 
ain’t going to risk any more. I’ve lost enough. You don’t 
catch me flinging good money after bad. You’ve lost your 
chance. Miss Grahame is safe now. She’s got a lot of money 
out of the International people. She’s given up the profes- 
sion, and no one can find out where she lives.” He paused, 
looking at Mrs. Kedmond as if in doubt, and then added, 
decisively, “ No, you couldn’t do it. You’ve got a lot of talent 
in you, and when you get an idea you ain’t wanting in courage 
to work it out. You’re a fine woman — very ’andsome ; but 
you ain’t clever just when you ought to be clever. Very sor- 
ry, but I can’t afford to give you anything.” 

“I’m penniless. I haven’t taken food since yesterday 
morning,” she Avhimpered. 

“Poor dear lady. Don’t take on like that. I’ve got a 
tender ’eart and I can’t abear to see ladies crying. There now, 
if I give you a trifle, will you j)romise not to ask me for any 
more?” 

She forced herself to accept this degradation and said 
“ yes.” 

“ Then, there you are. There’s half a crown for you. But 
you mustn’t come bothering me again — you really mustn’t.” 

He had calculated exactly the effect of the humiliation he 
inflicted, and the overthrow of all the false hopes he had led 
her to entertain. Exasperated to the last degree by his taunts 
and the consciousness of her own folly and failure, her spirit 
rose in fierce energy from the prostration which had overcome 
her. She hungered to retaliate on Nessa — to make her suffer 
for the injuries she had brought upon herself. 

“I’ll do it!” she muttered between her set teeth, as, blind 
with fury, she pushed her way through the crowded street. 
“ I’ll do it if I hang for it. It’s through her I’ve come down 
to this ; she shall pay for it. Am I to beg in the streets for a 
crust ? Not while she lives 1 ” 


204 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


CHAPTER XXXVL 

GOING BACK. 

Nessa received a letter. It gave her quite a flutter of ex- 
citement, so monotonous and dull was her eventless life at 
this time ; but her heart beat quicker still when she per- 
ceived by the postmark that it must be from Dr. Meredith. 
She opened it with a feeling of hope which it would have 
been impossible for her to explain, having nothing to hope 
for. Sweyn enclosed a letter with a couple of lines : 

“The enclosed letter,” he wrote, “comes to you by a 
roundabout route, as you will see. You have not forgotten 
your promise to write to me if you need your doctor and 
friend. “ Sweyn Meredith.” 

The communication was studiously brief. He could 
scarcely have written less ; yet Nessa was not disappointed, 
and in the pleasure of reading it over and over again quite 
forgot the enclosure. It was clear she must acknowledge the 
letter, and feeling that she could think of nothing else until 
she had written she sat down to the task at once. She wrote 
the first words that came from her heart. 

“ Dear Dr. Meredith : I thank you for the letter. I think 
I can never be so ungrateful as to forget your friendship and 
kindness. “V. D.” 

She also could not say less than this, and she dared not 
say more, and so, with a sigh of regret, she put up the sheet 
of paper in an envelope and addressed it to the doctor ; after 
that she went out and posted her letter with as much care as 
if the ha23piness of her life dej^ended on it. This mighty 
business, with the flood of conjectures and bitter-sweet recol- 
lections it brought u 2 )on her, so engrossed her thought that 
only when she got home to MyrtU Cottage and set herself 
resolutely to think of something else she remembered the 
enclosed letter. 

It was addressed, “ Miss Viola Dancaster, Arcadia, West 
Kensington re-addressed, “ J. Fergus, Esq., International, 
Paris ; ” addressed again, “ Care of Dr. Meredith, Grafton 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


205 


Eoad, Hammersmith, London ; ” and finally re-addressed, 
“Leston Park, Bartam, Yorkshire.” 

Opening the letter, Nessa, with awakening curiosity, turned 
to the signature, and found with surprise that the writer was 
Maud Kedraond. It was dated 29 Murdock Square, Euston 
Road, Tuesday, and ran on thus : 

My Daklinq Nessa — I do not know whether you are living 
or dead. For the last week I have been in London, seeking 
you everywhere in a state of mind perfectly indescribable. 
People turn round and look after me, thinking I am mad as 
I go through the streets looking in their faces in the hope of 
finding your dear features. Indeed, I think I am mad some- 
times, and no wonder, seeing the awful state of mind I have 
suffered since that dreadful night. I must have been mad to 
run away as I did ; but what wonder when Fergus told me I 
had killed you ! Not only Fergus, but every one else told 
me to my face that I had killed 3'ou intentionally. I own that 
the fear of being publicly accused of murdering my darling 
friend, terrified me, and I ran away to save myself ; but I did 
not realize that there was a worse torture than that of being 
unjustly accused of a dreadful crime. That torture is the 
thought that you may be now lying injured for life, helpless 
and friendless, in a hospital. Time, instead of bringing for- 
getfulness, only increased my fears, until the torture became 
so unendurable that I Avas forced to throAV up a lucrative 
engagement I had obtained in a Belgian family as a teacher 
of music (where I was greatly respected and treated Avith the 
utmost kindness), in brder to come here and seek you. For 
anything I know to the contrary, there may be a Avarrant out 
for my arrest, and I may end my miserable days on the scaf- 
fold. But that Avould be preferable to this terrible mental 
torment, which so unfits me for any occupation, that I am 
absolutely starAung, and must seek refuge in the workhouse 
if I do not meet the demands of my landlady. But miserable 
as my condition is, I could be happy if I only kneAv that you 
Avere living. I could then find courage to Avork, and I would do 
anything — the most menial Avork — to provide you with an 
independent home and some of those comforts which you so 
generously bestoA\’'ed upon me when I, alas ! was too thouglit- 
less and happy to value them. Yes, I would work my fingers 
to the bone joyfully to give you relief. I know that my 
darling Nessa has no cruel suspicion of my action. Yon know, 
dearest, that I am guiltless — however selfish and unkind I 
may have seemed at times — of any wish to do you harm. 


206 


BETWEEN' LIFE AND DEATH. 


You know that, with all my haults, I am generous at times. 
When I saw that you were going to lose that race, one of 
those generous impulses seized me, and I took the outside of 
the course in order that my darling Nessa should again win. 
Whatever faults I may have, no one can say I am a fool, and 
only an idiot could have attempted to injure you in my posi- 
tion — I had everything to lose, and nothing to gain by it. For 
did you not share all you had with me, and did I not give up 
my home, position, and everything else for your sake? But 
why should I seek to clear myself from such a monstrous 
charge when I am sure that you would be the last to harbor 
an unjust thought or ungenerous reflection? No, darling, 
whether you live or whether you are in that state where all 
secrets are known, it is all the same ; you know that I am 
innocent — you know that I am to be pitied. 

“I shall send this letter to Arcadia in the last hope that it 
may be forwarded to you if you live. And, oh ! for pity’s 
sake, write to me if you receive it and put an end to my agon}-. 
Let me come and look at 3'our sweet face once more — let me 
slave for you — help you in some wav' to show how truly I love 
you, and would repair the chances I have lost. It is the last 
kindness I ask of you, my darling. 

“Your most unhappy, 

“ Maud Kedmond.” 

Mrs. Bedmond had not yet risen from her bed in the 
second floor back of 29 Murdock Square — it was not 3'et 
midday — when her landlady, entering the room without 
ceremony, jogged her shoulder and said; hurriedly : 

“Here — get up. The 3’oung lady’s come. Drove up in a 
hansom.” 

“ Is she alone ? ” asked Mrs. Bedmond, springing out of 
bed with blinking eyes. 

“ Yes. You ain’t goin’ to have her up hei-e, are you ? ” 

Mrs. Bedmond glanced round the room, and shook her 
head as she huddled on her petticoats. 

The place was sufficiently wretched and squalid to excite 
compassion, but the general effect was not picturesque — not 
the picture of distress which an experienced stage manager 
would set before his audience, and Mrs. Bedmond knew her 
business, and the character of the girl she had to play to, as 
well as anyone. The crust of a pork pie, a beer jug, and a 
half-empt}' tumbler, the remains of last night’s supper, stood 
on the dressing-table with a bottle of hair-wash, a saucer of 
violet powder, and a paper of rouge. On the table— drawn 


BETWEEZT LIFE AND DEATH. 


207 


up for convenience to the side of the bed — was a lamp with- 
out a shade, a tray with the remains of the morning’s break- 
fast, a pile of hair-pins, a pack of cards, and some odds and 
ends of finery. 

“I’ve showed her into the front sitting room,” said the 
landlady, “but she ain’t sent away the cab, so you’d better 
look sharp, my dear. What are you looking for now ? ” 

“ My shoes. Look under those things on the chair. That’s 
just the way when you want a thing ” 

“You are such a untidy lady. Here take mine, my dear ; 
they’ll do to slip down in.” 

“Dip the corner of the towel in the water jug. Where’s 
that braided jacket? Never mind ; give me the towel. Now 
look about-for that waterproof.” 

“ Here it is, my dear — all creased up anyhow. You ain’t 
going to put any stuff on 3’our face, are you ? ” 

“Not likely,” replied Mrs. Bedmond, as she stood before 
the glass wiping her face with the towel. 

“ Mind, 3'ou’ll have to get some money out of her some- 
how. You promised me that, you know, when she came ” 

“ Oh, that’s all right. You shall have it right enough. I 
tell 3'ou I can twist her round my finger, and, you see, she’s 
come just as I said she would, and the hansom shows she 
has got the money. How do I look ? ” She turned, assum- 
ing a woe-begone expression. 

“Lord, you’re as good as a play,” chuckled the landlady 
with her hand to her mouth. “ You’ll do. Kun down. You 
can button j^our dress on the way.” 

Entering the sitting-room where Nessa was sitting by the 
window, Mrs. Redmond started as if she had seen a wraith, 
and then tottering forward a few steps she fell on her knees, 
and stretched out her hands with an imploring cry. Nessa 
went quickl}' to her side and put her arms round the woman’s 
neck. 

“Nessa, my darling Nessa,” gasped Mrs. Redmond, taking 
the girl’s hand and smothering it with kisses. “ Oh, tell me 
that you forgive me. No — I will not rise till I know I am 
forgiven.” 

“ There is nothing to forgive. You did not mean to hurt 
me. Oh, I am as sure of that as you yourself must be.” 

“Thank Heaven for this!” murmured Mrs. Redmond, de- 
voutly, bending her head and clasping her hands. “ But I 
forsook you when I should have stood by you — think of 
that.” 

“I would rather think of anything else — of how, for in- 


208 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


stance, you stood by me when I was in greater need. There, 
do get up. It distresses me a great deal more to see you like 
this than to think of your running awa3\” 

Mrs. Redmond allowed herself to be comforted, and grad- 
ually came round to a state of mind less embarrassing in its 
effect upon Nessa. 

“ You have given me strength,” she said, faintly ; “ in a 
little while I shall be able to look for work.” The hollow- 
ness of her voice frightened Nessa. 

“You were very poor when you wrote to me. Have you 
had anything to eat to-day?” she asked. Mrs. Redmond 
shook her head with a plaintive smile. 

“But I had some tea and bread last night,” she murmured, 
gratefully. 

“ I feared it was so,” said Nessa, “ and I have kept the 
hansom waiting. We will go out and get some dinner.” 

“I can’t, my darling. I have nothing but the things I 
stand in. The clothes I brought from Brussels have been 
taken by the woman of this house for my rent, and I have 
nothing to redeem them.” 

“I have,” said Nessa, eagerly putting her hand in her 
pocket. “I am quite rich — see. Mr. Fergus gave me two 
hundred pounds and I have brought half of it for you.” 


CHAPTER XXXVH. 
nessa’s dangek. 

Twice Grace went to see Nessa, and twice Mrs. Blount, 
with frigid reserve, informed her that Miss Dancaster had 
gone out without saying where she was going, or what time 
she intended to return. On the second occasion, the old 
lady’s manner was so particularly stiff and constrained that 
Grace was impelled, partly by feminine curiosity, partly by a 
better and higher motive, to seek an explanation. 

“Viola was out when I called last Wednesday,” she began. 

“ You are quite right, my dear ; she was,” replied the old 
lady, drawing herself up, and assuming the rigidity of a 
sphinx. 

“ Do you think I should find her at home to-morrow if I 
call?” 

“ It’s not at all likely, unless you leave word that you in- 
tend to come.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


209 


“Perhaps these fine afternoons tempt her to go out. If I 
come in the evening ” 

“ You would be still less likely to find her. How do you 
like your new occupation, my love ? ” 

“ Never mind about that. I want to talk about Viola.” 

“ I don’t,” said Mrs. Blount, emphatically. “ Indeed, I 
would very much rather not.” 

“Do you mind telling me why you object to talking about 
her ? ” 

“Yes, my dear; I will. It’s no business of mine; that’s 
why. While Miss Viola does not make a scandal in the 
neighborhood, and comes home before twelve, I do not mind 
waiting up till then ; though, of course, I should very much 
prefer going to bed at regular hours ; but I wdll not consent 
to letting the key go out of the house, for, whatever you 
young people nowadays may think, I do not consider it re- 
spectable for young women to have unlimited libertj", and 
I’m sure I should be more fidgety than I am sitting up listen- 
ing to the ticking of the clock with the dreadful things you 
read of in the papers every day.” 

“ But, surely,” said Grace, checking the endless parenthe- 
sis, “ Viola does not stay out every night without giving you 
some reason ? ” 

“I will not say it is every night, but it is too often, in my 
opinion ; and as for Viola, she never offers one ; and, as I 
say, it’s no business of mine to inquire. I’ve had a lesson 
that I shan’t forget. No, as long as I live, I shall remember 
how cruelly Sweyn scolded me for doing what I considered 
best in the interest of that young lady. I lie awake and think 
of his words now with an aching heart.” 

“ We must not consider our own sufferings, dear, when we 
have to choose between doing our duty and neglecting it. I 
am sure you would not hesitate if you saw that you really 
ought to interest yourself in — in my welfare if I were con- 
cerned.” 

Mrs. Blount resisted this appeal for a minute, sitting silent 
and motionless as a marble, with her lips pursed up, and in- 
flexible resolution in her spectacled eyes ; and then her chin 
twitched, her lids fell, her body unbent, and taking the gentle 
hand Grace had laid upon her arm she turned toward her 
with a shake of the head and said, “My love. I’m afraid I’m 
behind the times and don’t understand young people of 
the present day. In my time they were easy to manage. 
One only had to be firm with ’em and they yielded. But 
now it seems that firmness only makes ’em more perverse ; 


210 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


and more than once I’ve felt, as you make me feel now, that 
perhaps I have done just what I wished to prevent in being 
hrm with this young girl. I do indeed ! ’ ’ 

“I don’t quite understand what it is you fear.” 

“ My love, I fear that Miss Viola has found bad acquaint- 
ances, and is being led astray.” 

“ Why do 3'ou think she has bad acquaintances ? ” 

“ Because she has never told me one word about ’em. I’ve 
made her afraid of me, that’s what I’ve done ; and she don’t 
dare to tell me all, as she might if I had been kinder and less 
stern with her. I will not allow, though, that it’s all my 
fault. She doesn’t make any advances ; or if she does, they 
don’t last. She isn’t the gentle, patient little soul she was 
when I first nursed her. She’s changed, my love, and is 
growing impatient and hard — wonderful hard — for such a 
young girl.” 

“ I did not notice any change in her when we met 
last.” 

“No, dearie; that was three weeks ago. All the change 
has taken place since, which makes me more sure than ever 
that she’s got some wicked companions.” 

“ Can you tell me when the change first began ? ” 

“ That I can to a day. It began on the Thursday as you 
were here on the Wednesday. She got a letter that morning 
— the first she has ever received, and who it was from I know 
no more than the dead. But as soon as she got it she sat 
down and wrote, and then went out, saying not a word to me, 
but looking wonderfully happy. Then she came in, and in 
less than ten minutes out she went again, and never came back 
till the evening. And I remember quite well, when I put a few 
questions to her, she replied in her old, pleasant way, ‘ Don’t 
ask me what has happened, for I cannot tell you, dear,’ which 
of course, put me out a little. She went out again the next 
day, and didn’t come home till nigh midnight. And, do you 
know, love ” — here Mrs. Blount dropped her voice to a whis- 
per— “ I think she must have had some very strong excite- 
ment, for she was quite wild, almost as if she had been — well, 
I must say it— as if she had been drinking.” 

‘‘ Oh ! I can’t think that,” said Grace, greatly shocked. 

^ “ Well, I don’t know, my dear, but I’ve seen her frequently 
since then like that. Quite wild with excitement. And the 
next morning her eyes red, as if she had been crying, and 
looking ashamed of herself— ashamed to look me in the face ; 
then suddenly leaving the table and going up to her room, 
there continued walking up and down, as I could hear quite 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


211 


plain ; and then just as suddenly coming down dressed, and 
going out quick without a word.” 

Grace sat perplexed, astonished, and deeply grieved — 
seeking some satisfactory explanation. 

“ Do you think she has found an engagement ? ” she asked. 

‘‘What, play-acting or horse-riding? No, lovey ! I thought 
it might be that. But it can’t be ; for some nights she w'on’t 
go out at all, and others she comes home quite respectable 
hours, which she couldn’t if she was in a theatre or a sukkus, 
could she ? ” 

Grace gave up that hope with a shake of the head. Mrs. 
Blount continued, “No, dearie ; it’s bad company, I’m sure. 
And I think she’s been drove to it by having nothing to do, 
and finding Brixton more lonely than she, with her lively dis- 
position, could possibly endure. I’ve seen her trjung to fix 
herself on a book, but the leaves didn’t turn over ; and she 
can’t settle down to a bit of needle- work ; and at last she don’t 
seem able to bear it any longer, and goes off : which does put 
me out, my notions being that a girl ought to settle down, as 
I have hinted again and again to no puri:)ose.” 

Grace assented to this. She began to understand how the 
dreary, eventless routine drove the unhappy girl to tempta- 
tion. 

“ It can’t go on for long,” Mrs. Blount pursued ; “ for she’s 
spending her money as if she had thousands. Always comes 
home in a hansom, and as for dress — come here, my dear.” 

Grace followed the old lady upstairs into Nessa’s room with 
a qualm of conscience, and, looking round, saw many articles 
of dress thrown carelessly on the bed and chairs, which her 
woman’s eye saw at a glance were made with a reckless dis- 
regard to expense. 

“Surely these have not all been made within three weeks,” 
she said. 

“Every one of ’em, lovey. This, and that are not a week 
old. And look at that hat, and this mantle — what could they 
have cost ? I always thought you were a little extravagant in 
dress, my dear ; but, lord ! not to such a degree. And look at 
these little leather cases : they must be bracelets, and rings 
and things. There’s silk stockings in the drawer — I’ll show 
you.” 

“ No, no ! ” Grace said, checking her, ^shamed of allowing 
her curiosity to lead her so far ; “ I have seen quite enough — 
too much.” Suddenly her eyes in travelling round the room 
fell on a large bouquet. She pointed to it with an exclama- 
tion of delight. 


213 


BETWEEN LIFE AXB DEATH. 


“ Oh, yes — that’s the third this week,” said Mrs. Blount ; 
“flowers are very nice, but I don’t like to see such bowpots 
as those in a young girl’s room — anyway, a young girl of her 
station. I’m surprised it pleases 3’ou.” 

“ But, don’t you see,” said Grace, finding at last a happy 
explanation, “ a woman would never buy such flowers for 
herseli?” 

“No, that’s a sure thing. But I don’t see what you are 
driving at, dearie.” 

“ Why, that explains all. Some one has fallen in love with 
her, and she dresses to please him, and goes out to meet him ; 
and she may not like to talk about him to you.” 

Grace had her own reasons for joy in this conclusion. But 
Mrs. Blount discountenanced it with a slow shake of the head 
and a depression of the angles of her lips. 

“ No, my dear ; if she’d got a sweetheart, she W’ouldn’t cry 
in the morning — she wouldn’t go out as if she was forced to 
it by her own despair ; and she wouldn’t be silent about it. 
No girl in love can ever conceal her pleasure — she must talk 
about her sweetheart — that is,” she added, lowering her voice, 
“ if her sweetheart is a good fellow, and she really loves 
him.” 

There was a terrible suggestiveness in these words that 
made Grace shrink with a nameless fear for the poor girl. 
With that fear the real truth dawned upon her, and realizing 
the truth she recognized the duty that lay before her. 

She left Mrs. Blount, almost abruptly, and from the nearest 
post-office she despatched the following telegram to Sweyn : 

“Come at once. You are needed.” 


CHAPTEK XXXVni. 

A NEW TEMPTATION. 

Nessa was dressing to go out the next morning when the 
maid knocked at her door, and said : 

“ Please, miss, will you come into the sitting-room, misses 
says, before you go out ? ” 

“Yes, I will come,” Nessa answered ; “almost directly.” 

Mrs. Blount had told her briefly when she came in that 
Grace had called in the afternoon to see her, and now she 
expected to be scolded for coming home late, perhaps to be 
told she must go away on account of her irregularities. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


21S 


“I can’t help it,” she said to herself with a sigh ; “ I ought 
to go. I’m not fit to stay here now. Perhaps she has told 
Grace. I wonder what she thinks of me.” 

She went down-stairs painfully conscious of her faults, and 
hoping that Mrs. Blount would forgive her in order that they 
might part without ill-feeling. The sitting-room door was 
partly open ; she entered, closed the door, and turning to 
the table where Mrs. Blount invariably stationed herself on 
serious occasions, she started with an exclamation of aston- 
ishment. Sweyn stood before her ! 

For a couple of moments they stood silent and still facing 
each other, and marking the change a few weeks had pro- 
duced. But her wonder was greater than his, for Grace had 
prepared him for what he saw, while she was ignorant of the 
struggle which had exhausted him. The boyish gaiety was 
gone from his face, the carelessness from his manner ; he 
looked quite old and severe, despite the softness in his deep 
eyes. She could only attribute this change to present dis- 
pleasure, as she accounted for his presence by supjDosing that 
Mrs. Blount had written to him complaining of her misbe- 
haviour. 

“ You. have come to scold me,” she said, in a tone of contri- 
tion. 

“Yes — partly,” he answered, but there was no anger in 
his voice ; and taking both her hands in his he held them as 
if he meant to keep them for ever, looking into her eyes the 
while with such tender earnestness and deep solicitude that 
her heart fluttered with a wild, uncontrollable joy. 

“ Don’t you think I ought to scold you ? ” he asked, after 
a moment’s pause, still holding her hands in his. 

“ I have done wrong,” she said, thinking of the pain she 
had given Mrs. Blount ; “ she has been very kind to me, and 
I have tried her patience shamefully ; and instead of asking 
her to pardon me I have been silent and morose, not treating 
her as a friend at all.” 

“Is she the only one you have failed to treat as a friend? 
Have you kept your promise to me ? Why didn’t you wiite 
to me and say ‘ I want your advice ? ’ ” 

“ But I am quite well now. There is nothiug the matter 
with my health.” 

“Ah, you will think of me only as your doctor. Well, as 
your doctor, let me assure myself that I can do nothing for 
you. Sit down — no, not there, with your back to the light ; 
here, where I may see your face.” He seated her, and, still 
holding her hands, stood before her, looking down. 




BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Your eyes are sunk, your cheek is thin ; there are signs 
of suffering, pain, fatigue about your mouth,” he said. 

“It is fatigue. I went to the theatre last night, and after 
that I had supper. It was very late when I came home.” 

“ Yes. It was nearly one when you put out your light.” 

“ You have heard all about me.” 

“No, not all. I know that you have been seeking hap- 
piness and found but a very poor substitute for it. I know 
that, poor as the substitute is, it makes you for a time for- 
get some great trouble ; but I can only guess what that 
trouble is, and I must make sure of it before I dare to pre- 
scribe a remedy.” 

She trembled under his fixed gaze. 

“ You don’t know how dull it is here,” she pleaded. 

“ Yes, I do. I know that this house must be terribly dull 
in comparison with the glitter and movement of the scenes 
you have lived in — that the life here must be terribly monot- 
onous after an existence of perpetual change and variet}".” 

“And then I am only a girl, with no serious object in 
life ” 

“ If you were a man with the most serious purpose a man 
can have — the determination to subdue inclination and re- 
nounce the dearest desire of his heart — the result would have 
been the same. If a quiet life had been the cause of your unhap- 
piness, you should have found happiness in this last change. 
But are you happy ? ” She kept her head down, making no 
sign. “No ; you have not found even satisfaction. We can- 
not buy happiness — we can only buy pleasures, and they are 
scarcely better than the narcotics that for a little w'hile make 
us forget, and like narcotics, these pleasures must be taken 
by those whose happiness depends upon them in stronger 
and stronger doses till the end comes. Look at Goldy in the 
cage there. If external conditions count for anything, he 
should have died of misery the day after he was taken from 
the fields. But he lives and sings there in a prison.” 

“ And why can’t I ? ” 

“The case is different. That little prisoner has all the 
food he needs, but our craving hearts wish for the nourish- 
ment that is denied us. It seems to me that we need nothing 
here but love. I think I could live content with all this 
small room holds.” 

“You are a man,” Nessa said, still striving to hold her 
ground. 

“And for that reason, I am less easy to satisfy than you 
who are a woman. There’s not the difference between us 


BETWEEN LIFE AXD DEATH. 


215 


that you imagine. Look up in my face. Do you see no 
change — no trace of past suffering ? ” 

She looked up quickly, and with tender sympathy over- 
coming her silence, said, “ Have you been ill? ” 

“ Not more than j^ou, who tell me you are well. But I 
have suffered as you have, though I am a man, though my 
surroundings have not been dull, living out of doors among 
men — at home amidst a bevy of noisy children ; and though 
I have had a serious purpose ever before me, I have suffered in 
spite of all these influences to forgetfulness, until my endur- 
ance can go no further. Dear one, you know the cause. I 
love you, and all my hai3pines3 depends upon your loving 
me.” Her head had sunk again. He waited a moment, and 
then continued : 

“ I know your suffering and mine spring from the same 
cause, but whether you love me or another I dare not say. 
I have only my hope to guide me. Give me a sign that I 
may know.” He loosened her hands; they slid down into 
her lap heavily. 

“ A word — a sign — to tell me that you love me or love me 
not,” he urged passionately. 

She thought of Grace, and started to her feet, white, and 
trembling violently. She could not stay there feeling herself 
unequal to this conflict. 

“ You must not leave me like this,” he cried, taking her by 
the arm, as she made a quick, terrifled step toward the door. 
“For God’s sake, put me out of this suspense ! Oh, you do 
love me, darling ! ” 

For a moment she stood irresolute, swayed between prin- 
ciple and passion, and then, her fervent love throwing all 
conscientious scruples to the wind, she flung her arms about 
his neck and sank, with a cry of joy, upon his breast. 

He kissed her cold cheek till the hot blood rose, murmur- 
ing incoherent words of passionate love. Then again the 
image of Grace rose before Nessa’s eyes, freezing her heart 
with a sense of guilt and shame. 

“ No, no ! ” she cried, shrinking from his lips, and freeing 
herself by a physical effort from his arms. ‘‘I am nothing. 
It is Grace you must love.” 

“It is you I love — you, who are all the world to me. And 
now that I know you love me no one on earth shall separate us.” 

She shook her head wildly and escaped from the room. 
He left the house almost immediately after. To tell Grace 
what had happened was the first duty that presented itself to 
his mind. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


i>ir> 


It was less easy for Nessa to determine the course she had 
to take. For a time it was impossible for her to compose her 
thoughts into any definite form. She shook from head to 
foot as she sat upon the side of her bed endeavoring to over- 
come the convulsive agitation of mind and body. Little by 
little, as the physical and mental agitation subsided, certain 
convictions rose distinct and clear from the tumult of ideas 
that crowded her mind. First she saw the impossibility of 
her becoming Svveyn’s wife. Her whole soul revolted against 
an act which seemed to her a deliberate crime against Grace. 
Next, she perceived the necessity of severing all communion 
with Swejii. 

But how was that to be done ? She had, in the madness 
of a moment, acknowledged that she loved him. She knew 
that she loved, and must still love him, despite this great 
fault in his character. She could not hope to turn him from 
her by reasoning. She was no match for him. He might 
produce arguments that would sap all her best intentions. 
She felt that, if he took her in his arms and breathed upon 
her face again, she must yield as she had yielded. He w'ould 
return. How could she evade him ? She saw only one way 
of escaping temptation : she must fly. That, too, was obvious. 
She must leave the house and never return to it. 

But would he be thwarted — he, a man strong and power- 
ful in all things? Would he not find her in her retreat and 
comjDel her to be his wife ? She foresaw that he would do 
so. What barrier could she place between herself and him ? 
Why, there was one simple enough. There was one thing 
that she had meditated doing for a week past merely as a 
means of procuring the pleasures which her means would 
soon fail to provide. It was another step downwards ; but 
surely if it had been almost a matter of indifference whether 
she took it or not before, it was a justifiable and a welcome 
step now that it was to save herself from lifelong shame, and 
S.weyn from lasting remorse, and Grace from such a hopeless 
misery as she herself now endured. 

All that remained of her money, save a few shillings, she 
enclosed in an envelope with a few lines to Mrs. Blount ex- 
pressing her regret for all the trouble she had given, and beg- 
ging her to accept the sum in payment of her board and 
lodging ; then she took a last look round the room, ran 
noiselessly down the stairs, and left the house unobserved. 

About the same time, from her lodgings in Marble Grove, 
Fulham, IMrs. Bedmond set out for the restaurant in Begent 


BETWEEN LIFE ANT) DEATH. 


217 


Street, where they were to meet and lunch with Lord Carick- 
bairn. It struck one as she reached the Chandos. She could 
be punctual when it suited her. At the door she was met by 
a man in a clerical hat and frock coat. 

“ You, alone ? ” she said in surprise, giving her hand, and 
on his nodding gloomily, she asked, “ Are they upstairs ? ” 

“I don’t know whether she is. I haven’t been up to see. 
I’ve been looking out for you. Come up the street ; got 
something to say.” 

They walked toward the circus briskly and in silence for 
twenty yards ; then Mrs. Redmond spoke, “ Where’s Carick- 
bairn ? ” 

“ At home in a straight waistcoat,” he replied, in a low tone 
of discontent. 

“What?” 

“ Attack came on in the night. I thought it w’ould. Didn’t 
you see how queer he looked at supper ? ” 

“I noticed you kept your eye on him, and were precious 
particular about the knives.” 

“I can generally tell within a few hours when he’s going 
to be bad.” 

“ Oh, well, you can tell her that he’s sprained his ankle, or 
something. She won’t mind. She’s not ready for it yet, 
and it’s no good frightening her by being in a hurry ; she 
might suspect. It will be time enough when her money runs 
out and she feels the want of it. I suppose he’ll be all right 
to-morrow or the day after, and a day or two won’t make 
much difference to us.” 

“Won’t it though!” said he, sullenly. “The governor’s 
coming back.” 

“What?” 

“ Hexham will be back this afternoon. I found a telegram 
from him when I got in last night. He started from Dublin 
yesterday evening.” 

Mrs. Redmond muttered an imprecation between her set 
teeth, and after a pause asked, in a tone of dismay, “ What 
are we to do now ? ” 

“ Nothing ; the game’s up ! You may lay your life Hex- 
ham won’t give us a chance.” 

^ “Why not? Couldn’t he stand in with us? If we go 
equal shares all three in the money we shan’t do badly.” 

The man laughed at her. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. 
“ Why, Hexham’s as honest as the day. He’d never have 
been trusted to take care of Carickbairn otherwise. If he 


218 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


chose to be dishonest he could bolt safely with more than 
you could offer him for putting his hand to such a dangerous 
Job as this. He’d break every bone in my body if I hinted 
such a thing to him.” 

“Well, something must be done,” she said in desperation. 

“ Then you’ll have to look sharp about it ; he’ll be in Lon- 
don by five.” 

“ Where is Carickbairn now ? ” she asked, after a long 
pause. 

“ In his rooms. I left him strapped down.” 

“Look here !” said she, taking his arm and speaking low, 
“ I’ll undertake to bring the girl into the room in a couple of 

hours if you’ll shut ’em in together, and and leave a 

knife where he can get at it ! ” 

“ Well, you are a Jezebel ! ” he muttered, glancing at her, 
sidelong. 

“Never mind what I am; will you do it? You get as 
much as I do ; you made your own terms, and knew what 
they were for. Will you do it?” 

“ What’s the good ? The paroxysm’s over by this time. 
He’ll be as helpless as a child when I get back.” 

“ Everything’s against us,” she said, bitterly ; then, exas- 
perated by the man’s silence, she cried, “ Why don’t you sug- 
gest something? You didn’t leave him to see me for nothing, 
I know.” 

“ Oh, I’m content to throw up the affair. It’s not a nice 
business, and too confounded risky. Hexham pays me well ; 
and a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” 

“ That’s all very fine. I know you — you want to put all 
the responsibility on my shoulders ; but you are just as loth 
as I am to throw up the chance of making a fortune in a 
day.” 

“ Well, I thought there might be just a chance that you 
had brought the girl up to the scratch. As I tell you, after 
tins bout Carickbairn may be as easily led as a child. We’ve 
had everything ready for the last week. If we could only get 
the girl to consent, we might put them in a train and pack 
them off to the continent l3efore Hexham arrives.” 

Mrs. Kedmond stopped suddenly, and turning round, said : 
“ Let’s go back to the restaurant and find her 1 ” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


219 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

NESSA YIELDS. 

A glazed door with a gauze blind closed the entrance from 
the staircase to the private dining room of the Chandos 
Restaurant. Peeping over the top of the blind Mrs. Redmond 
saw Nessa seated at a table. She turned, and by a sign bade 
her companion in the clerical dress look. The girl sat in an 
attitude of deep dejection, looking listlessly through the 
window at her side ; the light falling on her face revealed an 
expression of apathy and weariness in it which encouraged 
their hopes. 

“ You leave her to me. Go and fetch Carickbairn, and 
bring enough money to pay their fare ; I have none.” 

The man turned and went down-stairs ; Mrs. Redmond en- 
tered the dining room. 

“They haven’t come yet,” she said, after kissing Nessa. 
“Oh, well, we W'on’t wait. What shall we have?” she 
touched the bell. 

“ Whatever you choose. It’s all the same to me ! ” said 
Nessa. 

The waiter came in and Mrs. Redmond ordered soup, cut- 
lets, and a bottle of Moselle. 

“It’s no use dreaming of anything but the simplest of 
things in these beastly English places,” she said, seating her- 
self opposite Nessa ; “ and then it’s doubtful if you’ll get 
them decent. Now, in Brussels, or anywhere on the con- 
tinent, it’s quite another thing. Even at a second-rate place 
like the Rocher de Cancal, for instance, you may go in fagged 
out with a long journey, and get a lunch that makes you gay 
for the rest of the day.” ^ 

“I suppose it’s very nice in Brussels — everything,” said 
Nessa, looking up with a gleam of interest in her eye. 

“Nice ! why, it’s a paradise in comparison with this murky 
hole. Here’s a wretched day for you, and we’re half way 
through May. A couple of inches of mud in the streets ; I 
suppose we ought to be grateful that it isn’t snow. It never 
surprises me to hear of people throwing themselves in the 
river.” 

Nessa shuddered : she perhaps had thought of such an 
escape from the misery of living. 


220 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


‘‘ What’s the matter, chummy ? ” asked Mrs. Redmond ; 
“you look more down on your luck than usual to-day.” 

“I wish we were in Brussels,” said Nessa. 

“ So do I, by George ! It’s a lovely little place. Music in 
the park, lots of smartly dressed women and children, people 
sitting outside the cafes in the warm sunshine, lots of lovely 
old buildings with a market place in the middle full of 
flowers, peasants in great wooden shoes and queer dresses, 
dogs trotting along drawing carts full of bright brass milk 
cans ! Oh, it is quaint and lovely ! ” She clasped her hands 
and threw up her eyes, and a faint smile came in to Nessa’ s 
face with the odd picture this description presented to her 
imagination. 

“ It must be interesting,” she said. 

“Interesting, I should think it was! Why, chummy, it’s 
a thing to make you forget every trouble you ever had. 
Couldn’t we run over there for a week or two ? ” 

“I have no money left.” 

“ Tut, tut ! There, that’s it. I haven’t a couple of pounds 
in the world. It’s all gone ; and I can’t tell how. I’m sure 
we’ve been as careful as we could ; we have bought nothing 
that wasn’t absolutely necessary to ladies in our position. Do 
you really mean you have nothing left. 

“ Yes. I don’t think I’ve more than enough to pay for our 
lunch.” 

“ Is it possible ? Why, what are we to do, chummy, for 
subsistence ? I positively dare not run into debt again. Do 
you think you could borrow anything from your friends ? ” 

Nessa shook her head. It was almost a satisfaction to her 
to think that there was no alternative left ; Mrs. Redmond 
could scarcely conceal her exultation. 

“Well, one thing is very certain,” she said ; “I must not 
think of brighter skies. I must accept that engagement and 
go drabbling about the provinces with that beastly low music- 
hall company. You wouldn’t care for that sort of thing, 
would you ? ” 

Nessa shook her head as she drew together the crumbs on 
the table-cloth. 

“ Of course you must do something for yourself if your 
friends won’t help you ; but luckily for you you’re not bound 
to accept such a degrading position as mine. You’ve only 
got to say the word and you can get all that money can buy 
— carriages, horses, dress, diamonds — everything. Ah,” with 
a shake of her head, “ fancy I in a couple of hours you could 
be dashing down to Queensborough in a saloon carriage, get 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


221 


on board one of those lovely boats with the sea sparkling 
around you, and the soft breeze blowing all the gloom out of 
your mind, steam up that beautiful river to Flushing, and to- 
morrow morning be lounging under an awning on one of 
those delicious Khine boats passing through the most gor- 
geous scenery in the world, with some new object of interest 
at every turn to give delight to life. There, dear, it’s impos- 
sible to think of any unpleasantness under such conditions, 
and everything about you seems perfectly charming.” Mrs. 
Eedmond continued to dilate upon the delights of continen- 
tal travel until her imagination and recollections were ex- 
hausted, encouraged to the utmost by the evident interest 
with which Nessa listened. At length, fatigued by the effort 
and impatient of Nessa’s silence, she said, in a tone of irri- 
tation : 

“ I can’t tell what you’re about to refuse such a chance. 
I suppose you’ve got some boyish romantic attachment.” 
She waited for a response, but Nessa made none. “ I thought 
so,” she said, with growing vexation at the failure of her elo- 
quence ; “ you’ve been awfully close about your friends ; but 
I can see well enough what’s the matter. You’re smitten 
with some fellow whom you hope to catch.” Nessa shook 
her head. 

“ Well, you expect to find some one better than Carick- 
bairn — a duke perhaps.” 

Nessa shook her head once more without any sign of 
resenting Mrs. Redmond’s sarcasm. 

“Then I can’t understand why you hesitate. I should 
have thought you had had enough of misery.” 

“ It may be that is why 1 do hesitate. If I could only love 
Carickbairn ” 

“ I don’t see why you shouldn’t love him ; he can give you 
everything that women of our class marry for. You talk 
about love as if you were still a child at school. It’s just 
those matches that result from such silly sentiment that turn 
out bad. I never knew any couple yet who married for love 
who didn’t detest each other before a year was ended. Can’t 
you use your eyes ? Look down in the street there ; can you 
pick out a single, well-dressed woman who looks as if she 
were in love ? Not one, they have all found that the real en- 
joyment of life comes from dress and position and all that. 
Love is an amusement — it lasts at the outside for a year or 
so ; but wealth brings enjoyment for a whole lifetime. What 
would become of us after forty if we had nothing but love to 
live upon ? ” 


222 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


“ Oh, we must love as long as we live ; it is part of our life,” 
said Nessa, fervently. “ Do not old people weep w^hen death 
parts them from those they love?” 

“ That’s affection ; and it’s precisely that affection which 
springs up after marriage when two people have married sen- 
sibly’’, and not married from inclination.” 

Nessa seemed to accept this proposition, Mrs. Eedmond 
continued : 

“ A woman must come to love a man who is always provid- 
ing her with what she wants.” 

“But the man must love to give ; and if love only springs 
from receiving, and the wife gives nothing — ” Nessa sug- 
gested. 

“But the wife does give something — she gives herself. 
What more could a man ask for ? Besides, men are different 
from women — they like giving.” 

“ So do women, surely ? ” 

Mrs. Redmond, judging her sex by her own standard, w^as 
not so convinced on this head, but she was quite ready to 
grant it for the sake of argument. 

“ Well, there you are ! ” said she, “ if both give, both must 
love. And the more you give, tlie more you ought to love. 
And, of course, in giving yourself to Oarickbairn, you do give 
more than if he were quite the man of your choice. No one 
denies that he is a little -weak in his intellect, and requires 
some one to guide him ; but in taking care of him, and mak- 
ing some sacrifice with a sort of philanthropic notion — a kind 
of feeling that you are making him happy — ” Mrs. Redmond 
checked herself, for she was being carried by the force of her 
own logic to lengths that appeared to her a little too ridicu- 
lous to impose even on such a simpleton as Nessa. But she 
certainly would have continued had she known what hopeful 
conviction she had caused to dawn upon the girl’s mind. As 
it was, she leant back in her chair and folded her arms in 
morose silence, saying to herself that it was no good going 
any further ; she must give up the attempt to mould the stub- 
born girl to her purpose. 

Both sat quite silent for some minutes ; then Nessa looking 
up, wfith a set resolve in her clear eyes, said : 

“How long would it take to arrange for a marriage?” 

“ Oh, the arrangements are all made. Wlien we first be- 
gan to talk about this affair, I felt so sure you intended to do 
the sensible thing that I told Oarickbairn to give the formal 
notice at the registry office in his parish, and it was done. 
Why, dear chummy ! ” — Mrs. Redmond leant forward, warmed 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


223 


witli a sudden rush of affection — “ You could be married this 
very afternoon, if you liked ! ” 

“ Then I will be married this afternoon,” said Nessa, firmly. 


CHAPTEK XL. 

A RACE FOR A LIFE. 

It was done. The forms were all duly observed ; and Van- 
essa Grahame was legally married to Richard Anderson, Lord 
Carickbairn, at the registry office of East Chelsea, before the 
registrar, and in the presence of his clerk and two witnesses 
— John Cummings and Maud Redmond. 

“That’s a queer lot !” said the registrar, returning to the 
inner office after closing the door on the marriage party. 
“ What do you make of ’em ?” 

“ Something wrong going on there.” 

“ That’s my opinion.” 

“Not one of ’em looked quite right. Did you notice the 
bride?” 

“ She looked as white as a ghost — never smiled once : I saw 
that.” 

“I mean, when she sat down to sign her name, she stopped 
for quite half a minute with the pen in her hand, with a kind 
of wild look in her face as if she couldn’t bring herself to do 
it. Did you see it ? ” 

“ No ; the man fixed me. There was a rum look in his face 
if you like — a hungry look, and his eyes all puffed up and 
blood-shot.” 

“Drink, I suppose.” 

“ Either he’d been drinking, or else he’d just risen from a 
sick-bed. He could hardly walk across the office ; and that 
parson fellow, Cummings, actually had to tell him how to 
spell his own name. Look at his signature.” 

“Hum! I thought I heard one of them call him Lord 
Carickbairn, or something like that.” 

“ I shouldn’t be surprised. 26 Eaton Street. Is that all 
right?” 

“ Oh, he’s had lodgings there three weeks— for the sake of 
the notice, I expect ? ” 

The registrar looked at the register a minute in silence, and 
then said : 

“I tell you what I think: this is a put-up job. Anderson 


224 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


is some young swell with a lot of money — a lord as likely as 
not — and a dipsomaniac, I should say ; and the young girl 
has been led on to marry him by the fat woman and the par- 
son who stand in to share the plunder. I didn’t like the look 
of either of them — too managing.” 

“ They looked anxious enough till it was all over, and then 
they seemed to have a load ojBf their mind. How anxious they 
were to get off, too ! ” 

“ They wouldn’t have been married here — a young couple 
of that kind — if it had been all right, you may be sure. How- 
ever, that’s not my affair.” 

“ They’re a queer lot, anyhow.” 

The “ queer lot ” went to Sloane Square Station in the cab 
which had brought them from Kegent Street to the registry 
office. A train was leaving the platform as they descended 
the stairs ; another was due in seven minutes. With h s arm 
linked in Nessa’s, Carickbairn tottered to a seat, and sat down. 
She, too, thought that he had been drinking ; but overcoming 
her instinctive repugnance, she seated herself by his side, w ith 
the firm resolve to do her duty by the man she had taken for 
her husband. For a few moments they sat in silence ; she 
with bent head and downcast eyes summoning her fortitude, 
and striving, with all the strong purpose of her earnest dis- 
position, to do what was right ; he holding her arm with 
feverish energy, and casting his furtive glance from her to 
Cummings, who w’as walking wdth Mrs. Redmond at a little 
distance apart. 

“ I am your wfife, now,” Nessa said in a low tone, still look- 
ing down, “ and I will try to make you well and strong and 
happy.” 

“ Yes ! yes ! ” he answered, quickly, scarcely above a whis- 
per; “I shall be strong enough to-morrow: strong enough 
when we get away from him.” He nodded toward Cum- 
mings, and tightened his hold upon her arm. 

Cummings, walking away from them, carried a small Glad- 
stone bag in one hand, and the tickets he had procured at 
the booking office in the other. 

“ Take these tickets,” said he, “ and I’ll give you the money 
for the others.” 

Mrs. Redmond took the tickets, and finding but three, said, 
in quick alarm — 

“You’re coming too.” 

“No, I shall quit you here.” 

“ What, and leave me to go on alone with them ! ” 

“ Yes : you’ll get out at Blackfriars. It’s only a stone’s 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


225 


throw to St. Paul’s station. You can take a growler to the 
terminus at Holborn Viaduct if you prefer it. There’s sure 
to be a continental train at about six.” 

“ You’ll have to come with us. I won’t do it alone.” 

“ You must. It’s nearly four. I shall have to meet Hex- 
ham at Euston.” 

“What for?” 

“ To put him off the scent.” 

“ Rubbish. I’m not going to trust myself for a couple of 
hours with that fellow.” 

“ What are you afraid of ? ” 

“ Why, he may break out and do it in the carnage before 
we get to Blackfriars.” 

“ Nonsense. You can see for yourself that he’s as helpless 
as a baby. Besides, he’s reasonable enough now, and more 
cunning than the pair of us. He knows that he will have her 
all to himself in a few hours, -and he’ll wait his opportunity.” 

“ You can say what you like, I won’t trust him. If you 
don’t go on I won’t.” 

“ Well, how about Hexham ? ” 

“ Let him find out that you’re gone when he gets to the 
rooms. There will be nothing odd in that.” 

“ Yes, there will, his telegram is on the table telling me to 
expect him.” 

“ Nothing’s to be gained by alarming him before the time. 
It’s just as easy to say that Carickbairn gave you the slip at 
four, and that you have been hunting for him since, as — any 
other lie. Besides, what does it matter ? He’s bound to find 
out the truth. You’ve got nothing to gain from him. You’ve 
staked everything on getting your share of the girl’s fortune, 
and you’ll be a fool indeed if you neglect any means of mak- 
ing that sure. Here comes the train ; are you coming or 
not?” 

“ Have it your own way ; but mind, it will be your fault if 
we fail. The first thing Hexham will do when he finds us 
gone and learns that Carickbairn was bad last night will be 
to go to the police station. Better let me go and put him on 
a wrong track. Shall I or not ? ” 

The train came to a stand. 

“No,” answered Mrs. Redmond, decisively. 

Cummings nodded with an air of resignation, and stepped 
into the carriage after Nessa and her husband. Mrs. Red- 
mond followed. 

At St. Paul’s they found that the Queensborough train did 
not leave before 8.30. 


226 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


It was now too late for Cummings to attempt to intercept 
Hexham at Euston. 

They went to a hotel in the neighborhood and dined. As 
the time went on, Cummings grew more and more restless 
and uneasy — glancing with apprehension at every new comer 
who entered the dining room. At seven o’clock he could no 
longer endure inaction, and proposed that they should go to 
the Viaduct station, where possibly they could put Nessa and 
Carickbairn in the train. Mrs. Kedmond, as impatient and 
apprehensive as he, assented to the proposal. 

“A nice thing for me if I’d been alone with them,” mut- 
tered Mrs. Kedmond, as she and Cummings followed Nessa 
and her husband through the booking office. 

“If I had gone as I wished — and I was a fool not to go — 
you’d have had nothing to fear,” growled Cummings in re- 
ply. “I should have had Hexham miles out of London by 
now. As it is, he may be in this very station for all we can 
tell. Is that the Queensborough train on the right there ? ” he 
asked of a porter. 

“ Oh, no, sir. Queensborough train, 8.30 ; they won’t make 
it up for an hour yet, sir. Any luggage, sir ? ” 

“No. Let me know as soon as the train is up. You’ll 
find me in the smoking-room of the hotel.” 

“Very good, sir; I won’t forget — smoking-room of the 
hotel. — That’s a rum’un,”he said behind his hand to a couple 
of ticket collectors standing near, as Cummings and his ]3arty 
withdrew. “Four passengers for the continental express 
and no luggage.” 

Cummings, going in advance, found the smoking-room 
empty, and held the door for the rest to pass in. They took 
a corner table. The waiter brought coffee, cigarettes, and 
some illustrated papers. Nessa, seated beside her husband, 
Avho kept his hand constantly on her arm, tried to interest 
him in the engravings and find new occupation to her 
thoughts. For beyond the consideration of the grave 
responsibilities involved in the irrevocable step she had 
taken, a certain uneasiness was taking possession of her which 
owed its origin to trifles that seemed too insignificant to de- 
serve attention at such a time. 

At the present moment, for instance, she noticed that her 
husband, bending over the paper as if to look at the pictures, 
had his eyes covertly fixed on Cummings, while the fingers 
of his left hand, as it hung over his knee below the table, 
were constantly opening and closing, as if he were clutching 
an imaginary object ; and again she observed that, whenever 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


227 


the door opened Cummings and JVIrs. Redmond invariably 
turned to see who it was that entered. 

Cummings, lighting a cigarette, seated himself on a lounge 
a little way from the table. Mrs. Redmond rose, took a time- 
table from an adjacent sideboard, and seated herself beside 
him. 

“What on earth did you come up here for?” she asked in 
an undertone looking in the book. 

“ Better than sitting in the waiting-room, where we could 
be spotted by anyone passing through. It’s the first place 
we should be looked for.” 

“ We might have escaped notice amongst a lot of people. 
We are conspicuous sittiug alone in this ghostly big room. 
Better have stayed at the hotel where ” 

She stopped abruptly as the door opened, and a man in 
the dress of a railway police officer looked round the room 
with knitted brows till his eyes rested on them, when he 
withdrew and went off with a business-like step. 

“ Who’s that ? ” she cried in alarm. 

“Oh, bother!” he replied, impatiently. “What’s the 
good of fidgeting ? You’ll make me as nervous as yourself if 
you go on like this.” 

There was a pause. Then she whispered without moving 
her head : 

“ Carickbairn keeps looking over at us. What’s the matter 
with him ? ” 

“Nothing. He’s watching his opportunities, that’s all.” 

“It mustn’t happen here.” 

“ He won’t attempt it while I’m in sight. He’ll wait till 
they’re quite alone.” 

“Do you think he’ll do it before they get to Queens- 
borough ? ” 

He nodded. 

She rested content with this for five minutes ; then she 
asked : 

“ Is that his bag you’ve got there ? ” 

Yes.” 

“ What’s inside ? ” 

“ His razors.” 

At last the porter came to say that the train was in and the 
booking office open. Cummings took up the bag, and they 
went down into the station. Mrs. Redmond left them to get 
the tickets and rejoined them at the wicket. 

“Only two going on ? ” said the collector, examining the 
tickets. 


228 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Only two/’ Cummings answered. “ This lady and I will 
go on the platform to see our friends off.” 

“ All right, sir. ” 

They went down the platform. 

“ What class?” asked the guard. 

' “First.” 

Cummings falling back and putting his hand in his pocket, 
told the guard, in a low tone, that the lady and gentleman 
going on were a newly-married couple. 

“All right, sir,” said the obliging official; “I’ll take care 
they keep the compartment to themselves.” 

He took the half-crown Cummings had ready and locked 
the door on Nessa and her husband. 

“ Hope you’ll have a nice journey, dear,” said Mrs. Eed- 
mond through the window ; “ mind you wTite to-morrow and 
let me know how you are getting on.” She nodded and fell 
back. Cummings stepped forward and shook hands with 
Carickbairn. 

“ Good-by. Pleasant journey,” he said, and then putting the 
bag through ; “here’s your traps. Send the rest on. You’ll 
find your shaving tackle in there.” 

Carickbairn taking the bag on his knees, spread his hands 
over it as he nodded — his eyes shifting from Cummings to 
Nessa, and then back to Cummings with a gleam of intense 
gratification. 

It was half past five when Hexham found on the table in 
his room the telegram he had sent to Cummings, intimating 
his return and desiring him to be at home when he arrived. 
He rang the bell at once. 

“Where’s Mr. Cummings?” he asked, sharply, when the 
servant came up. 

“He went out about two o’clock, sir, with Lord Carick- 
bairn.” 

“Did he leave any message ? ” 

No, sir.” 

“ Did anyone call for them ? ” 

“No, sir. Lord Carickbairn was very bad last night.” 
Hexham knew that by the condition of the adjoining room. 

“ He couldn’t have gone out if he had been very bad,” he 
said, tentatively. 

“ Well, sir, it was as much as ever he could get down to 
the cab. Missis said he oughtn’t to have been taken out 
in such a state.” 

Hexham saw that there must have been a special reason for 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


229 


taking him out. He was a man of determination and prompt 
action, despite his easy- going look. From the rooms in Vic- 
toria Mansions, it was but ten minutes’ walk to Scotland 
Yard. He went straight to the chief, and put the case before 
him in a few words. 

“.My name is Hexham,” he said, presenting his card ; “ I 
am private keeper to Mr. Richard Anderson, son of the 
American millionaii’e of that name. You’ve heard of him, 
perhaps ? ” 

“ The gentleman who insists upon calling himself Lord 
Carickbairn ? ” 

“ Yes. I left him in charge of a man named Cummings 
three weeks ago to go to Ireland, where I expected to stay a 
few days. The illness of my mother detained me there. I 
came back this evening and found both Mr. Anderson and 
Cummings gone — under suspicious circumstances.” 

“ Suspicious circumstances ? ” — interrogatively. 

“ Yes. I wired Cummings to be at home, and I learned 
that soon after getting my telegram he removed Mr. Anderson, 
whose condition must have rendered going out extremely 
dangerous.” 

“ Dangerous, in what way ? ” 

“ Dangerous as regards his own health, and the safety of 
others. He had an attack last night. After that he should 
have complete rest. Any excitement may produce a second 
attack, and in that condition he is capable of murder. I may 
tell you, if you are not already aware of the fact, that he is a 
homicidal maniac.” 

“ He was tried for murder in New York, and acquitted on 
the ground of insanity?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Is Cummings aware of this?” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ What motive can he have for taking him out ? ” 

“ I cannot tell. But I suspect some mercenary end. Mr. 
Anderson, of course, has almost unlimited wealth which 
might be the object of some intrigue.” 

“ But this man Cummings, whom you trusted with the 
charge of Mr. Anderson ” 

“ I have known him five years. He has been under me ever 
since I brought Mr. Anderson over. He has always appeared 
honest and trustworthy to me ; but I heard something of his 
antecedents yesterday which shook my faith and determined 
me on returning at once.” 

“ Well, sir, what do you wish me to do ? ” 


230 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Wire to all stations, and command instant inquiry. Of 
course, expense is no consideration.” 

“Very good. Write a description of the two men as briefly 
as you can on this form.” 

Hexham sat down and WTote at once : 

“ Anderson, gentleman, 31 ; tall, slight, fair ; pinched 
angular features, bent shoulders, head forward, straw-colored 
mustache ; dressed (probably) in round hat and morning 
suit. Cummings, 45, stout, dark ; shaven face ; dresses and 
looks like a priest.” 

“ That is right,” said the chief, reading the jDaper and touch- 
ing a bell push ; “now, sir, will 3 ’^ou wait here in the hope of 
an answer coming in, or will you call again ? ” 

Hexham waited. The first hopeful answer was received an 
hour later. 

“ Seen at St. Paul’s station. Still inquiring.” Then came 
another. “ Dined at Randall’s Hotel. Just gone.” Nothing 
of any importance was offered for half-an-hour, then Hexham 
read from the tape, “Priest and gentleman with two ladies, 
smoking-room, Holborn Viaduct station.” 

It was 8.25 when Hexham dashed up to the station in a 
hansom. 

“ Which is the next train out ? ” he asked of the porter as 
he leapt out. 

“ Continental in — off in a few minutes.” 

Hexham rushed to the wicket, and at a glance caught sight 
of Cummings and Mrs. Redmond at the door of a carriage. 
Pushing the collector aside, he ran down toward them. 
They turned and walked off toward the front of the train. 
The guard, whistle in hand, was holding up his hand. 

“ Open this door ! ” shouted Hexham, trying the handle. 

“ Here’s a compartment, sir.” The guard opened another 
door. 

“ Open this door ! ” 

“Can’t, sir — ” 

“ Quick ! don’t you see the man’s got an open razor in his 
hand ? ” shouted Hexham. 

At that moment there was a woman’s scream from the in- 
side of the carriage. ' 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


231 


CHAPTER XLI. 
nessa’s eyes are opened. 

Nessa was sitting by the window, opposite her husband, 
when Cummings suddenly exclaimed, “ Hexham ! ” At the 
sound of that name, Mrs. Redmond, who was speaking to 
her, stopped abruptly, turned her head sharply toward the 
wucket, and the next moment hurried away in the opposite 
direction with Cummings. As Hexham rushed up to the 
door, her husband flew to the other end of the compartment 
with the bag in his hand. There he stood for a moment, 
looking at Hexham, as if in the last extremity of fear ; then 
seizing the one opportunity offered by the delay in unfasten- 
ing the door, he tore ojDen the bag and snatched at the razor 
lying inside. Under the impression that he intended to com- 
mit suicide, Nessa, with a scream, sprang to her feet, and 
darted forward to arrest his hand. He grasped her by the 
shoulder with his left hand, and, putting the razor to his 
mouth, opened the blade with his teeth, and she saw by the 
mad fury in his eyes that it was her life, and not his own, 
that he intended to take. But before he could use the hid- 
eous thing, Hexham was upon him, and he was thrown back 
in the padded corner of the carriage, his arms tightly pinned 
to his side, and the razor fell from his unnerved fingers. So 
much was impressed distinctly on her mind ; what followed 
was vague and dream-like — until, recovering from the shock, 
she found herself on the platform, supported by a couple of 
railway officials, surrounded by a few curious spectators, and 
saw the train, which was to have taken her, gliding away in the 
distance. There was no one on the platform beyond the 
gaping group about her. Where were her husband and 
Hexham, and Mrs. Redmond and Cummings? The two lat- 
ter had made their escape in the outgoing train ; Hexham, 
intent only on avoiding unpleasant consequences of his pa- 
tient’s murderous attack, had whisked his man off the plat- 
form, bundled him into the first hansom available, and was 
now clear of the station. He had hardly cast a glance on 
Nessa ; certainly he had not recognized her. In reply to her 
faltering questions,* the officials, after looking about, could 
teU her no more than was patent to her own observation, and 
that was summed up in the policeman’s brief announcement — 
“ the parties are all gone, seemingly.” 


232 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


The poor girl was utterly bewildered, and when asked if 
she would take a cab, slie accepted the suggestion eagerly, 
with nothing but the vague idea of fiuding her husbaud, b}' 
whose side it was now her duty to stand. There was no 
doubt in her mind about that. She had known, from the 
very beginning, that his mind was unsound, and it was the 
consideration that, by devoting her life to making his a little 
happier and better than she found it, which had finally de- 
cided her upon becoming his wife. She said, unsparingly 
to herself, that she had married him for her own selfish ends 
— to escape the temptation of yielding, as she inevitably 
must, to the influence of Sweyn Meredith — to escape desti- 
tution, to provide herself with luxuries, which seemed essen- 
tial to happiness, and she was bound by her bargain to fulfil 
the duties of her position. And she reasoned — if a young, 
unworldly girl in such a desperate position can be said to 
reason — that her duty was not lessened by the fact that his 
condition was worse than she had been led to believe it, but 
the more imperative because he stood in greater need of love 
and tender care. 

But how was she to find him ? That question was brought 
home to her by the cabman touching his hat, and asking, 
“Where to, miss?” She was completely ignorant as to her 
husband’s address. It occurred to her, however, that Mrs. 
Kedmond might know, and so she told the man to take her 
to Mabel Grove. 

“ How much ?” she asked, when she got out at Fulham. 

“Three shillings, miss, is my fare.” 

Nessa, looking in her purse, found that she had no more 
than two shillings and sixpence, and this the obliging cabman 
consented to take. 

Mrs. Redmond had not returned ; Nessa decided to w^ait 
until she came in, wondering what had detained her, per- 
plexed still more by the recollection of her strange behaviour. 
Doubtless she would explain all when they met. In the 
meantime Nessa saw that she must try to be patient and rea- 
sonable, and think out her position clearly. There was no 
alternative but to wait ; she had no friends, and no money to 
pay for a bed at a hotel. She walked about the room trying 
to overcome a growing suspicion of foul play and treachery 
that had sprung up in her mind, until the lengthening hours 
increasing the mystery of Mrs. Redmond’s absence, she sank 
down on a couch, and, from sheer exhaustion, fell asleep. 
The woman of the house brought her some breakfast in the 
morning. Nessa waited until ten o’clock, and then, leaving 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


233 


word that she would return in the course of the morning, she 
went out to find the registry office where she had been mar- 
ried the day before. 

The registrar recognized her at once, and, seeing the trou- 
ble in her face, led her into his inner office, and gave her a 
chair, before inquiring what business had brought her there. 

“ Will you tell me if you know where Lord Carickbairn 
lives ? ” Nessa asked. 

“ Your husband ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“The address he gave is 26 Eaton Street.” 

“ Is that near here ? ” 

“ Quite close — the second turning on the left.” 

“ Thank you very much.” 

“ But,” said the registrar, as Nessa was about to rise, “ he 
does not live there.” 

The disappointment that suddenly followed the expression 
of satisfaction in the young wife’s face told a tale, and he con- 
tinued : 

“ Something unusual in the look of your husband and your 
friends led me to call at Eaton Street this morning, and I 
learnt there that the apartments were let to a gentleman, who, 

I presume, is Mr. Cummings, for a month, and the rent paid 
in advance, but that since that day neither he nor any one 
else had taken possession of them. I tried to discover where 
the gentleman lived, but the people of the house knew noth- 
ing whatever about him ; they had neglected to ask his name. ' 
It is probable that the .rooms were taken only to comply with 
the regulations of the Marriage Act.” 

“ And — and that is all,” faltered Nessa. 

“ Well,” — the registrar hesitated. 

“ Please tell me all you know — anything,” Nessa pleaded. 

“It is rather a delicate question; but may I ask, Mrs. 
Anderson, if you are aware that ‘ Lord Carickbairn ’ is an- 
assumed title ? ” 

Nessa shook her head — deprived of speech by the dread of 
some terrible revelation. 

“It is. I have examined the Directory and the Peerage ; 
there is no such name as Richard Anderson, Lord Carick- 
bairn, in either.” 

Nessa was stupefied. 

“ What am I to do ? ” she murmured. 

“With a view to helping you if I can, may I ask what has 
happened ? ” 

“ They are gone — gone ! ” she replied, wildly. 


234 : 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“And you want to know how to find them. Well, we can, 
perhaps, find one. Maud Redmond,” he said, opening the 
register, “ lives in Mabel Grove. John Cummings gives the 
same address as your liusband.” 

“ She is not there — she has not returned. I have been at 
her house all night.” 

“I am afraid I can give you no further information. But 
if, as I am led to suppose by your youth and these grave 
circumstances, you have contracted this marriage without the 
sanction of your friends, and have now reason to suspect the 
good faith of those who induced you to marry — if I am right 
in these suppositions, I think I may venture to offer you 
advice.” 

“ Oh, pray do. I am quite helpless — quite unable to guide 
myself.” 

“ Then let your friends guide you. Go back to them.” 

“ My friends ! ” she said, in a tone of despair that told him 
she had no hope in that direction. 

“If that is out of the question, there is still one other re- 
source — consult a solicitor.” 

“ What can he do ? Will he find my husband ? ” 

“ Ah, that may be a matter for the police to take up. I 
cannot say. Bat you may rely on this — that if you put your 
case in the hands of a first-class solicitor, he will take what- 
ever steps are advisable to secure j^our interests.” 

“ Would it be very expensive ? ” Nessa asked, timidly. 

“ That depends on the nature of the case. If it involved a 
lawsuit it might be very expensive. Of course, you can do 
nothing without some outlay — I may say considerable outlay.” 

“I am penniless— I can do nothing,” Nessa said to herself, 
rising in despair, with the feeling that it was useless to con- 
tinue the discussion. The registrar rose also. 

“I think I may say with certainty,” he said, going toward 
the door, “ that you ought to do nothing without legal advice. 
I mean, that, you ought to take the opinion of a competent 
adviser before you put yourself again in communication with 
your husband and the persons who have led you to marry 
him.” 

“Oh, surely my first duty is to find my husband,” said 
Nessa, with conviction in her tone. 

“ I am not sure of that.” He stopped, with his hand on 
the door, and, facing her, repeated gravely, “lam not sure of 
that. Your solicitor may find that you have been led into 
this marriage by unscrupulous persons with some view to 
their own advantage. You mistrust no one concerned — you 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


235 


do not see how this marriage may tend to their advantage, at 
present unseen by you. That is because you are ignorant of 
evil. I can imagine a case in which a marriage and desertion 
would affect a wife’s fortune. Suppose, for example, the 
wife’s estate were entailed, the succession would be naturally 
diverted by her dying without family, and this could be 
effected by the husband abandoning her on the day of her 
marriage. I do not say that this is your case : I only suggest 
it as one example of a hundred combinations that might be 
devised with the same motive. Certain facts lead me to sus- 
pect that you are the victim of some combination, and I have 
spoken, perhaps unwisely, because I feel it would be ungen- 
erous to be silent. I can see that you are a lady by birth and 
education : your dress leads me to believe that you have 
wealth. Your husband is already proved to be an impostor. 
You were deeply agitated when you came here yesterda}^, and 
you signed your name binding you to that man with evident 
reluctance. The woman who came with you was ill-bred and 
coarse ; the man, Cummings, looked as if he were staking his 
fortune on the cast of a die — they were both eager to get the 
business done, and, when it is done, all three disappear in a 
manner which it seems to me you cannot explain.” 

“No. It is all a mystery to me.” 

“Well, I think I have shown you where you may look for 
a clue to the mystery ; at least, I have tried to show' that 
it is not your first duty to find your husband. It is on the 
contrary — for a certain reason which a solicitor would have 
less diffidence in pointing out than I find — your dutj' to avoid 
correspondence or communication of any kind with him un- 
til you are assured that this marriage has not been contracted 
with a sinister purpose. You have asked my advice,” he 
added, turning the handle of the door ; “it is summed up in 
a dozen words : before you find your husband or his friends, 
or they find you, see a solicitor.” 

He opened the door and bowed, and Nessa, expressing her 
gratitude in a few incoherent and confused phrases, went out. 


236 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


CHAPTEE XLH 

NEW DIFFICULTIES. 

With hurried steps, yet aimlessly, Nessa followed the line 
of traffic, repeating in her mind all that the registrar had said, 
and extending his arguments as her own reason suggested. 
Conscious of her own worldly ignorance, she recognized the 
soundness of his advice, but how was she to engage the ser- 
vices of a solicitor without money ? Her case looked hopeless 
enough for some time, but her courage rose with the growing 
perception that the difficulties which surrounded her were 
only to be overcome by vigorous effort, and that she must 
fight her battle unaided. 

It was a still, bright morning. The line of colored sun- 
blinds made the street gay ; there was a look of content in 
the faces of people. In the Green Park, where she found 
herself at length, gardeners were bedding out geraniums and 
summer plants ; the waterfowl left a sparkling ripple in their 
wake ; there were children everywhere. Nessa found a va- 
cant seat under a tree in a quiet place, and set herself to settle 
the problem of existence in a spirit that owed much of its 
tranquil energy to these trifles. 

She said to herself that, as she could do nothing without 
money, she must get money at once ; that was really the first 
thing to be done. She had been told that the employment 
of a solicitor would entail a considerable outlay ; it was 
obvious, therefore, that she must get a considerable lot of 
money. How? Well, how did other people get money? 
By work. Very well, she must work and earn it. Now, 
what sort of work could she do that would bring in a consid- 
erable lot of money ? 

Here her heart fell as she recalled to mind the means by 
which she had made more money than she knew what to do 
with it. She looked back on the life at Arcadia with a strange 
mingling of delight and sadness, regret and aversion, for 
Sweyn was inextricably associated with these memories. She 
could never think of that joyous past without a dreadful ap- 
prehension that Sweyn esteemed her less for having been 
what Mrs. Blount called a “ sukkus rider ; ” and even now, 
when she had separated herself from him forever, she recoiled 
from the idea of resuming the profession, as if there were some 
sort of infidelity in such a course. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


237 


“ No,” she said to herself, “ I will not think of that — nor 
of him. That is all past, and I must forget.” So she put the 
International out of her thoughts, and looked about for some 
other means of getting a fortune. It was not easy to settle 
at once, but one thing was evident — she must work, begin- 
ning at once, for without a shelter for the night and food, she 
could not live. 

A flash of light, reflected by her bracelet as she moved her 
hand, suggested a ready means of supplying these primary 
wants, and she rose, thinking that, somewhere in the neigh- 
borhood of the Clock Tower rising in the distance, she might 
find a jeweller who would be willing to purchase some of her 
trinkets. 

She crossed over the bridge, and, a little way along the 
Westminster Road, caught sight of a nice-looking jeweller’s, 
with no one in the shop save a gentleman behind the counter, 
who seemed to be looking out for customers. 

After walking past the door twice, she screwed up her 
courage — a process which made her very hot and cold by 
turns — and walked up to the counter. One glance at the 
beautiful and elegant young lady made the man obsequiously 
polite as he bent forward and begged to know what he might 
have the pleasure of doing for her. 

“I want to know if you buy jewellery,” said Nessa, 
timidly. 

The shopkeeper looked disappointed. However, he said 
he might buy if the article were in his line, and so Nessa un- 
clasped her bracelet and handed it to him. He glanced at it, 
then stuck a glass in his eye and examined the inner side ; 
after that, he asked if she had anything else she wished to 
sell, but not enthusiastically. Nessa drew ofi:’ her other 
bracelet, and, judging by his manner that this also was not 
quite in his linS, she hastily drew off her glove and gave him 
her rings — all except her wedding ring. When he had ex- 
amined them all, he put them together on the glass show 
case and said : 

“ What do you want for the lot ? ” 

He was quite lukewarm in his manner now. 

“I hardly know what price to say. They cost a great deal 
of money,” said Nessa. 

He raised his eyebrows, and, sticking the glass in his eye, 
once more examined them. 

“What do you call a great deal?” he asked. 

“ One bracelet was a jDresent, but the other and the rings 
cost me about forty pounds.” 


238 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Where did you buy them ? He began the examination 
all over again. 

“They were bought at Osmond’s, in Regent Street.” 

“Did you buy them there 3’^ourself?” 

“ No. A lady bought them for me.” 

“ I can give you fifty shillings for the lot.” 

“Fifty shillings for all?” 

“Yes, the two bracelets and the three rings.” 

“But surely if they cost forty pounds — indeed, now, I 
recollect they cost more than that.” 

The jeweller took the glass from his eye, and, shaking his 
head, said : 

“ You’ll excuse me, but they didn’t cost five pounds ! ” 

“Oh, I think you are mistaken. That diamond ring was 
sold to me for fifteen pounds because it was not large enough 
for the lady, but she told me that she paid twenty for it to 
Mr. Osmond.” 

The jeweller smiled, and took the trouble to draw a tray of 
rings from the window, from which he selected one exactly 
like Nessa’s. 

“You can have that for eighteen shillings,” he said, bland- 
ly, “and it’s quite new.” 

This practical proof of Mrs. Redmond’s dishonesty did 
more than anything else to make Nessa realize that her friend 
was false, and no longer to be trusted. 

“Not one of these things is genuine,” the jeweller contin- 
ued. “ The stones are not real, and the gold is only plated. 
Osmond’s wouldn’t have them in the place. Take them to 
him and see what he says.” 

Nessa shook her head. 

“ Well, you can leave them here, and buy them back when 
you want them. You’ll see them all in the window this after- 
noon. The bracelets I shall mark at fifteen shillings ; the 
rings about seventeen or eighteen shillings each. I may 
have to keep them in stock a year, and then the profit will 
not be too great for a business of this kind.” 

Nessa accepted the fifty shillings, and left the shop in de- 
jection ; not because she had got so little for her trinkets — 
she hardly thought of that — but because her last hope of 
finding Mrs. Redmond exonerated from the imputations 
raised against her was gone. There was now something more 
to forget. 

Diverging from the main street with the idea of finding an 
apartment suitable to her means in the neighborhood, she 
came into the Lambeth Palace Road, and finally took a bed- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


239 


room in a quiet, dingy house for the low price of ten shillings 
a week, with attendance. When this was accomplished, she 
went back to the Westminster Koad and bought such things 
as she needed, and this gave her a feeling of independence 
which was a great comfort to her. Among the rest, she 
had bought two or three newspapers, and, after dinner, she 
set herself to read the advertisements and select those which 
might be answered the next day. She thought she could 
undertake to teach some young children, and one advertise- 
ment for a daily governess in a Christian family where two 
servants were kept she marked for her first application the 
next day. She did not quite see why the two servants were 
brought in, but the advertisement was very amiably worded, 
and her wide interpretation of Christianity led her to sup- 
pose that the family must be very loving and gentle. 

In the evening she took a walk along the Albert Embank- 
ment. The stillness of the evening, the solemn grandeur of 
the river flowing past, the glory of the sun setting in the 
coppery haze, imbued her with a sense of awe, and inspired 
her with a devout, earnest longing to be wiser than she had 
been, and better. She was ashamed to think how she had 
abandoned herself to despair in the past few weeks, and 
sought to alleviate the maddening depression that comes 
from such self-abandonment by unworthy meannf With this 
contrition and sadness, the figure of Sweyn came into her 
mind, and to think that he, a man, must suffer as she suffered, 
so wrung her heart with pity that she had to linger on the 
deserted water till the silent tears that came to her relief 
were shed. 

Among other good resolutions she made that night before 
falling asleep, Nessa resolved henceforth to keep a diary ; 
for, seeing that many of her misfortunes had arisen from 
want of thought, she very properly considered that, in record- 
ing each night the events of the day, she might cultivate a 
habit of reflecting, and, by the discovery of her errors, be 
less liable to fall again into mistakes. This highly commend- 
able practice she stuck to for fully a month, and a few ex- 
tracts here from her veracious chronicle will show briefly 
what happened to her about that time. 

“ May 10th. — To-day I called upon Mrs. Blatherwick at 
Hampstead to see if she would take me as a daily governess, 
but' I am sorry to say I did not suit her. She was not dis- 
satisfied with my handwriting (though I was so nervous that 
I wrote the text she dictated very badly), and found no fault 
with my French and German (though there again I used a 


240 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


■wrong tense in the German and mixed up the genders in 
French) ; and I readily agreed to take the younger children 
out for a Avalk in the afternoons, and make myself useful in 
the house when the others were not engaged in studies ; but 
she was disappointed to find that I was not a good needle- 
woman, and thought my manner betokened a w'ant of Chris- 
tian humility. She objected to the style in which my hair 
was dressed, and could not think of engaging a young per- 
son who did not wear a modest little knot behind. The 
great fault, however, was my dress ; she wondered however I 
could be so ill advised as to present myself to a lady in a 
costume so unbecoming to my station, and it was on this 
point, I think, that she decided upon declining to consider 
the subject any further. Of course it was very ridiculous to 
apply for a situation in such a rich dress and a hat of that 
kind, and I must get something very i^lain before I try again 
— for Mrs. Blatherwick quite lost her temper when she got 
upon this subject, and hardly inclined her head when she 
• had told one of her two servants to ‘ see this young person 
to the door.’ 

“11th. — Mrs. Hirst” (her landlad}') “was kind enough to 
introduce me to her sister in the Kensington Koad, Avho is a 
dressmaker, ^nd she is going to make me two black merino 
dresses and a jacket in exchange for my satin gown and 
mantle, and charge me nothing, which seems to me very gen- 
erous, as she has to buy the stuff and make it up ; and who will 
give me eight and sixpence for my hat, ■which will enable me 
to buy a little bonnet I saw in the Westminster Eoad with- 
out taking anything from my purse. There are some cheap 
silk gloves which will go with the black dress, and then I can 
give my long gloves to Mrs. Hirst, if she will accept them. 

“ 18th. — One of my dresses came home this evening and 
the jacket. They fit beautifully, and I like the bonnet I 
bought at Westham’s, and was very glad to get them ; for it 
is terrible to do nothing, and the money going out instead of 
coming in. 

“19th. — I went to Hackney to-day about the advertisement 
I cut out of yesterday’s paper — Mrs. Fox. Her family, she 
told me, was very musical, and her husband, who is a captain 
in the volunteers, desired all the children to be able to play 
the ‘Battle of Prague.’ I trembled when she opened the 
piece of music and asked me if I could play it at sight, for I 
never did play well, and when I read between the bars ‘roll 
of drums,’ I didn’t know how I should do it. However, we 
didn’t get as far as that, for as soon as I took off my glove. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


241 


Mrs. Fox, looking at my wedding-ring in surprise, asked if I 
were married. I said yes, of course, and when she asked 
some further questions, I had to tell her that I was not living 
with my husband ; upon which she arose, saying very stiffly, 
that she would not trouble me to play the ‘Battle of Prague,’ 
as she could not think of engaging a married lady as gover- 
ness. I cannot understand that at all. 

“20th. — I think I shall have to leave off my wedding-ring 
— there is no necessity to say I am married, unless I am 
asked — for to-day there was a repetition of my experiences 
yesterday, only worse, Mrs. Hocquet telling me that she 
could not think of engaging a young person in my situation, 
with an offensive manner which seemed to imply that my po- 
sition was a very discreditable one. 

“24th. — Went to Mrs. Sherrard’s, at Tulse Hill, without 
my ring. No objections were raised, for Mrs. Sherrard was 
a stout, careless woman, and seemingly very proud of being a 
Liberal in politics and her husband on the School Board, but 
she could not pay more than twelve pounds a year, and see- 
ing, when I reckoned it out, that this only came to about five 
shillings a week, I was obliged to decline, because my rent 
costs ten. 

“25th. — I tried to-day for an engagement as resident gover- 
ness at Pimlico, but the lady asked questions which I could not 
answer, and pointed out very clearly (though not very ami- 
ably), that I could not expect any one to take a young woman 
into the house without references or experience, or anything 
at all. So now I really don’t know what to do ; for I can’t 
live on twelve pounds a year, and it’s hojDeless to think of 
entering a family as resident governess. And my money is 
going, though I try to be careful and have left off sugar. 

“28th. — Answered two advertisements to-day: one at a 
draper’s in Kentish Town, and the other at a confectioner’s in 
Cbeapside. Both wanted some one who had been out before. 
I hear one has to serve a certain time for nothing in shops 
before you can hope to get any salary. It is dreadful to 
look in my purse. If I can’t find something before the end 
of next week I shall not have money enough to pay my rent. 

“June 1st. — To-day I sold my wedding-ring for eight shil- 
lings. When I thought of it the other day it seemed almost 
wicked ; but I don’t see now why I should keep it. I have 
not worn it for over a week, and indeed I cannot realize that 
I am a married woman. I am not likely ever again to see 
my husband, so why should I feel any scruple about selling 
the ring he gave me ? 

16 


242 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ 3(1. — This afternoon I passed two girls who stared very 
hard at me, but I am useci to that, and do not take much 
notice of it. One of these came after me, however, and 
asked if I was not Viola Dancaster ; I remembered her then 
as one of the girls in the International Companj'. She was 
very amiable, and when we had talked a little while she asked 
me what I was doing now, and seemed quite astonished when 
I told her I was looking for an engagement as a shop assistant. 
She says I might be earning twenty pounds a week easily' in 
the profession, and gave me the name and address of her 
father, who is a music-hall agent — a great many professionals 
live in Hercules Buildings — declaring that he could find me 
an engagement as a star artiste at once. I think I must go 
and see him, for I have only a shilling and a few pence left 
now, and nothing more to sell.’* 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

THE DAWN OF BRIGHTER DAYS. 

The next entry in Nessa’s journal recorded a change of 
fortune. 

“ I have found an engagement at last,” she wrote, “ and 
one that I can accept without humiliation, for indeed, from 
what Mrs. Heath told me about music halls, I don’t think I 
could have accepted an engagement in one. This morning 
when I rose I said to myself I would wait one more day be° 
fore going to the agent in Hercules Buildings— having yet 
enough to buy food for the day — and so looking out the 
promising advertisement in the paper, I went to Mr. Mulloch, 
the art pottery shop, in Oxford Street, but with very little 
hope indeed that he would accept me, especially when I saw 
what a fine shop it was, and caught sight of four or five young 
ladies seated at one end, who looked as if they had come for 
the situation. I expected to be sent to join them and take 
my turn ; but the shopman, after I had told him my business, 
left me for a few minutes, and, coming back, led me directly 
into Mr. Mulloch’s office. He is an elderly gentleman, and 
was particularly kind and polite to me. He told me that he 
wanted a young lady as shqw woman at a show of art pottery 
in one of the courts at the Crystal Palace, and when I replied 
that I should like such an engagement but that I knew 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


243 


nothing of the business, and had never before been a sales- 
woman, he nodded and said, with a smile, ‘ I believe I know 
you and understand your position.’ Then, opening a drawer, 
he brought out a photograph, and putting it before me said, 
‘ I think that is your portrait, is it not ? ’ I imagine I turned 
very red — I know my face burned — as I recognized my own 
likeness — one of the large ones that were in all the shop 
windows after my first success at the Arcadia. ‘ I was an un- 
happy spectator of your accident. Miss Dancaster,’ he con- 
tinued, ‘ and I never hoped to have the pleasure of seeing you 
again, still less of having it in my power to be of service to 
you in any way. I suppose you have no wish to return to 
your profession after such a terrible experience ? ’ I told him 
that I should prefer doing anything else. ‘ Of course,’ he 
went on, ‘ it will be a great advantage to us to have a young 
lady with your attractions at our exhibit, but as the whole 
thing is rather an advertisement of our ware than a place of 
sale, we cannot afford to pay you a large salary ; still if you 
would accept a small sum — say a pound a week — I shall be 
most happy to close with you.’ This offer quite took my 
breath away : it was so much better than anything I had a 
right to expect after failing to obtain situations of the most 
unpleasant kind where the remuneration given was seldom 
more than twelve shillings a week, and sometimes as low as 
five. Taking my silence, I think, as a sign of objection on 
my part, Mr. Mulloch continued : ‘ If you consider the salary 
insufficient — and, of course, it must seem ridiculously small 
in comparison wdth what you have been gaining in your pro- 
fession — we might make some arrangement for a small per- 
centage on any orders you may obtain in excess of the average 
returns.’ I hastened to assure him that I was quite satisfied 
with the pay ; then he said, with a smile, ‘ Well, I assure j^ou 
the work is not hard or unpleasant, and the hours are moder- 
ate : ten in the morning till five in the afternoon. To-morrow 
is Saturday : now, if you could meet me at the Palace in the 
Venetian Court at, say, eleven o’clock to-morrow morning, j’ou 
will be able to see the exhibit and decide whether it will suit 
you — ’ I said I would certainly be there at the time he 
named, and asked when the engagement would begin. ‘ As 
soon as possible,’ he replied. ‘ On Monday, if it is convenient 
to you. Our Miss Smith is only staying on to oblige us.’ 
So, to-morrow I shall go to the Palace, and, oh ! I do hope 
that nothing will hajDpen to prevent me from getting this 
occupation, for I feel more and more that even if I go back to 
the old life, I shall be found such a poor, spiritless, shame- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


244 

faced creature that the public aud the managers and everyone 
else will be dissatisfied with me. 

“5th. — It is all settled. I am to begin on Monday. I 
never thought when I had so much money that the prospect 
of earning enough for my subsistence could give me such joy. 
I could hardly see to write those words, for the tears of grati- 
tude that came into my eyes. My good Mrs. Heath lent mo 
ten shillings this morning, else I don’t know how I could 
have kept my appointment, and I arrived at the Ciystal Pal- 
ace a little after ten. It is a lovely place. There are plants 
climbing up the iron work, and fountains, palms, and ferns, 
with fiowers everywhere ; and beautiful statuary ; so that it 
seemed to me like a glimpse of fairyland as I walked down 
the long building. Turning out of the sunny aisle, there are 
beautiful cool courts, and in one of these is Mr. Mulloch’s ex- 
hibit of pottery. He met me there punctually at eleven, and 
introduced me to Miss Smith, a nice, agreeable young lady, 
who tells me there is scarcely anything to do but sit in a 
chair and read, or watch the people going by outside ; for 
very few people come into the court. She was very glad to 
hear that I could come in on Monday, for she is engaged to 
be married, aud her lover is very jealous because of the at- 
tentions she receives and cannot very well escape them. But 
she tells me the young gentlemen who come to amuse them- 
selves are not really offensive, only stupid. All this, and 
much more, she told me after Mr. Mulloch had gone, but I 
must not forget to write down that before he left me he was 
good enough to offer me a check for a month’s salary in ad- 
vance, which I accepted very gratefully. I stayed with Miss 
Smith to learn as much as I could of my duties. She showed 
me where she hangs her bonnet and jacket, etc., and her ar- 
rangement for taking meals unseen, and very generously gave 
me the spirit stove she uses for making tea, heating her 
fringe tongs, etc. In two hours I seemed to have learnt all 
she had to teach, and Mr. Brown, (her lover) coming in the 
afternoon (after we had eaten our dinner together behind the 
screen, which was great fun) I offered to take her place for 
the rest of the day, as she said she only wanted to see the 
fountains in the gardens play. They were both delighted ; 
so while Miss Smith put on her things I took off mine (with 
more fun behind the screen), and when they left I took Miss 
Smith’s chair and sat down beside her favorite stall with a 
book, quite proud of my position. But I could not read for 
the novelty of it all, and so went round looking at my faience 
and china, which is all most beautiful and interesting. And I 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


245 


even ventured to recommend a dinner service to a clergyman 
who stopped to admire it. He seemed quite interested in 
what I said about it, and I do think I should have made 
him buy it, if it had not been for his wife, who didn’t seem 
at all nice. At half-past four I lit my little stove and made 
tea for myself, and I don’t think I ever enjoyed a meal so 
much in all my life. But the most delightful thing of all, 
was to hear the music (which is plaj’ed every afternoon in 
the concert-room quite close to my exhibit, and is quite audi- 
ble* — even the piano passages — where I sit). The programme 
boy passing through my court, I bought one, so knew all that 
was going on ; and a selection from U Pescatore di Perle^ by 
Bizet, almost made me cry, one air was so beautiful. It made 
me think of my old friend, who was so fond of music, and of 
all the happiness I have had, but chiefly of those days when I 
did not know that I loved him, and he did not know that he 
loved me. Oh, if we could have always gone on like that ! 

I do allow myself to think of him now, for I do not wish 
to forget by foolish extravagance as I did when I was so 
wicked at first ; but the memory of him, and all he said and 
did, makes me feel better, and encourages me to think of 
good, pure things, which must surely make me better. If I 
had thought alwaj’s like this, I could not have done those 
wicked and foolish things, that fill me with remorse when I 
look back on that dreadful time that culminated in my mar- 
riage with Mr. Anderson. I do think I was not in my right 
senses then, but mad. That is my only excuse, but I think 
it is an excuse, for I say to myself that if a girl can be wicked 
and mad enough in her despair to. commit suicide — as I some- 
times thought it would be best for me to do — and madness is her 
excuse, then, indeed, it is not unnatural or inexcusable that she 
should commit less foolish and wicked actions. I thought of 
him all the time that the band plaj'ed, and I think I must al- 
ways do so when I hear beautiful music. And it cannot be 
wrong, for I do no one any harm by thinking, and it does 
make my heart tender and thankful to God They .encored 

II Pescatore di Ferle, and, as the lovely, sacred air was re- 
peated, I prayed with my whole soul that he might forget me 
and be happy — as he surely must when he marries Grace, 
who is such an angel, and so fitted in everything to be the 
wife of such a man.’* 

After the novelty of her new position had worn off, Nessa 
ceased to write her diary ; for her life became one of unvary- 
ing regularity, and, except that she gave up her lodgings in 


246 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


Lambeth and took a couple of rooms near the palace, no 
event occurred for two months worth writing about. Then 
something happened which was to be written on her mind 
and never after effaced. 

One evening, when she turned from locking the door of 
her court, she found a man standing before her, and that man 
was Sweyn Meredith. She stopped with a faint exclamation 
that meant joy — pain — hope, fear — anything, everything ! 

He took her hand without a word ; only when he had led 
her on a few steps in the leafy shade of the deserted colonnade, 
he murmured : 

“Found at last, my love ! ” 

She was trembling and weak from this sudden shock, but 
she found strength to stop and draw her hand from his on 
hearing these words. 

“Oh, you must not speak to me like that,” she faltered ; 
“w'e must not be together.” 

“Must not be together ! ” he exclaimed, passionately ; “ do 
you think I have hunted for you day and night for three 
months to give you up now that you are found ? ” 

He laughed derisively, but suddenly checking himself, as 
if confronted by a terrible doubt, he said : 

“ One moment. Look me in the face, Nessa.” 

He spoke sternly. His command was not to be disobeyed. 
Nessa looked up into his face, which was absolutely fierce 
with this sudden suspicion that she had given her heart to 
another. But it did not terrify her ; its manly strength was 
admirable in her eyes ; the haggard cheek, the sunken eye, 
the line that told of weary anxiety moved her heart with pity. 
And as she still looked up to this, her lord, the hard lines 
melted away from his face, the brows unbent, and the firm 
lips quivered “You love me still, darling,” he murmured: 
“You love me as you did the morning that we parted, and 
nothing in the world shall keep us asunder.” 

“ Grace ! Grace ! ” was all that Nessa could say in remon- 
strance.. 

“No, that name shall not bar me. Nor shall that name be 
your plea again for giving me the slip. You are mine now — 
inevitably mine ! ” he took her hand and pressed it fervently 
between his big palms as he led her onwards. 

“Sweyn— oh, my friend,” she pleaded, striving to free her- 
self from the meshes of this love that seemed to tangle all her 
faculties ; “ we must not do this wrong.” 

“ Wrong ! ” he ejaculated, stopping again to look down in 
the beloved face ; “ do you think I would tempt you, whom I 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


247 


love as dearly as I respect myself, ‘ to do wrong ? ’ Wrong ! 
If Grace were my wife I would leave her, loving you as I do. 
Which is the wrong— to break God’s law or man’s ? ” 

“ Surely it is wrong to break either.” 

“ Yet, if one must be broken, so surely it is not the law of 
God, by which one heart is bound to another. But no law 
shall be broken, for Grace is not my wife. And were I weak 
enough to offer her my hand with my love gone to another, 
she would rightly scorn to take it. Marriage without love is 
crime, for we must love ; and you wrong us both — Grace as 
-well as me, if you think we would willingly be criminal — you 
wrong us both if you think that we can forget the past, and in 
years to come patch up an alliance and call it marriage. Do 
you know how I came to discover you ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Grace sent me here to find you : Grace, whose heart you 
think clings to the man who loves you as he never did and 
never could love her ! ” 

“ How did she know I was here ? ” 

“ She was here yesterday. You passed her in the evening. 
There was a fUe, the Palace was crowded, and before she 
could overtake you, you were lost. She imagined you had 
some occupation in the building by j’our manner ; you -walked 
quickly ; you were alone, and took no notice of the things 
and peojDle about you. More than that : she believed by your 
expression that you were not happy — that you had not for- 
gotten me. She came to me this morning to tell me — herself 
suggesting that if you had an engagement here, I, too, might 
find ypu. But without that probability I should have come. 
I have looked for you all over London. I heard that you had 
been seen in Kensington, and for a month I have hunted the 
streets about there.” 

“ Oh, she is generous ! ” said Nessa, feeling that she could 
not have done so much. 

“ She knows me — she knows that I could never love any 
one but you, and gave me credit for more steadfastness than 
you would allow me, though she has had less proof of my love 
than I have given you. You thought I could forget you, and 
ran away in the belief that after a little while I should cease 
to think of you. It is strange,” he added, after a pause, 
“ that after thinking of you with such yearning tenderness all 
these past weary days, I should tell you of your faults when 
we meet. I am like a mother recovering her lost child — the 

first instinct is to scold it for the pain it has given ” 

“lam glad to be scolded. I deserve punishment — scold me ! ” 


248 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ I have done — that is the first impulse ; the next,” he ad- 
ded, tenderly, “ is to hug you to my breast and make you feel 
how I do love you.” 

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it fervently. 

They were alone on the steps leading down into the garden. 
Nessa, at the touch of his lips, felt that nothing in the world 
was worth a thought beside such love as his, and, with that 
impulsive self-abandonment which was characteristic of her 
nature, impatient of self-restraint, turned to him with a coo 
of ddight, and, laying her cheek against his breast, looked up 
into his face as she murmured : 

“ My own dear love ! I, too, will keep before all others 
that law which binds us heart to heart, and I will never, never, 
never leave you again ! ” 


CHAPTER XLIV. 
nessa’s crime. 

That night Nessa burnt her certificate of marriage with 
Richard Anderson. As she looked at the piece of paper be- 
fore putting it in the flames, she said to herself that virtually 
she was still free to marry Sweyn — that the mere signing of 
her name could not make her the wife of that other man ; 
and, to silence the objections of her whispering conscience, 
she repeated again and again Sweyn’s uuconsidered words, 
“ Which is the wrong — to break man’s law or God’s? . . . 

If one must be broken, surely it is not the law of God, by 
which one heart is bound to another ? ” At another time she 
might have seen that she was doing wrong, but she was in- 
capable of reasoning clearly at this time, being wholly carried 
away by the force of passion. With that reckless disregard 
of consequences which distinguishes the love of women, she 
would give herself to Sweyn, no matter what might follow. 
If the worst that could happen came, she would take the pun- 
ishment, and count herself a gainer by having the love of 
such a man as Sweyn. She believed that, if she offended 
against the law, only she would have to suffer, not realizing 
that others must be involved with her. And yet she was con- 
scious of doing wrong, or she would not have burnt the certifi- 
cate of her marriage — would not have perceived that this act in 
her life she must keep forever secret from Sweyn. 

The danger of discovery, remote as it was, already began 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


249 


to weigh upon her mind ; and even the dear joy of meeting 
Sweyn the next evening could not quite remove it. She felt 
it there at the bottom of her heart —something she wished 
away — something which prevented her feeling the complete 
happiness of knowing that nothing now stood between her 
and him. 

“Have you settled where you should like to live when we’re 
married?” Sweyn asked, as they were going through the 
grounds the next evening. 

“ No ; anywhere dear. I don’t care,” Nessa replied, press- 
ing his arm, and with a voice full of happy indiflference. 

“ Anywhere in London, I suppose you mean,” he suggested, 
smiling. 

“ I mean anywhere that pleases you. Where you are will 
be the happiest place in the world to me.” 

“If you say such sweet things as that, you dear one, I 
shan’t be able to talk business.” 

“Is it business?” asked Nessa, seriously ; “I didn’t know 
that.” 

“ Yes, it is business. The fact is, sweetheart, I’ve been 
trying for years to make a practice in London, and I’ve failed. 
M3" connection consist chiefl}" of those who need advice gratis, 
and ph3'sic on the same terms. While I only wanted tobacco, 
the practice did not cost more than I could afford out of my 
little income ; but now I want a wife, the case is different, 
and I should like to get something in addition to my divi- 
dends.” 

“I am not extravagant now, dear; I have learnt to live 
economical!}”, and, unless you objected to it, I could still keep 
my engagement, and so we could wait for better times.” 

“ You will talk in that strain, w”ill you ? ” he said, and then, 
glancing round to assure himself that no one was near, he 
took her in his arms and hugged her to him. 

“ I did mean what I said, dear,” Nessa protested, when that 
lovely embrace was over and she had composed her mind to 
serious considerations. 

“So did L Well, now to business again. How should 
you like Buenos Ayres for a dwelling place?” 

“ Buenos A3”res ! why, that’s in South America ! ” she ex- 
claimed in astonishment, for she had thought of the suburbs 
of London as the limit of their removal. 

“ Yes, it’s very much in South America, and it’s a hot place ; 
though I daresay the heat would not be more intolerable than 
the fogs of London in the winter ; and it’s a long way from 
Regent Street and the theatres.” 


250 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Oh, if 5’ou knew how little I care for them ! ” 

“ The flowei’S and fruit must be lovel}’’, but except half a 
dozen resident merchants and their families, you wouldn’t 
see another Englishman in ten years, perhaps.” 

“ I don’t want to see any other Englishman in the world 
but you — never.” 

“ Oh, sweetheart, I wish I could say such lovely things to 
you. I can only feel them here,” he said, pressing her hand 
to his heart. 

“Tell me about Buenos Ayres,” she said, “in serious earn- 
est.” 

“Well, then, in serious earnest, I had an official appoint- 
ment in Buenos Ayres offered me this morning. It’s better 
than anything I could hope to get in England, and I think 
we might put by enough in a dozen years to come back and 
give advice on the old terms in London. It is so good an 
offer that I postponed giving a decisive answer until I had 
asked you about it. Now tell me, wife, what answer you 
would like me to give.” 

“ Oh, let us go there. It will make me happy beyond any- 
thing you can think of.” 

She said no more than she felt. It was an intense relief 
to think that she would be beyond the probability — almost 
possibility — of meeting that man Anderson. Her eager ac- 
ceptance of his proposal astonished Sweyn. 

“ If we go it must be directly. I doubt if we should have 
more than a week to prepare.” 

“We can get everything ready in that time.” 

“I suppose we could be married by special license.” 

“If not, we could be married there.” 

“ Oh, we’ll be married here, if possible. It will look more 
genteel, and I shall have to be particularly genteel in such a 
position. Besides, I intend to marry you before all the world. 
My vanity demands that.” 

Nessa, hearing this, trembled to think of what might have 
happened after being publicly married if she had stayed in 
England, now partly realizing for the first time the peril to 
which she had wilfully blinded herself. 

“ So I am to accept the offer, eh, sweetheart ?” he asked, 
presently. 

“ Yes, oh, yes,” she answered, eagerly ; “ unless,” she ad- 
ded, observing reluctance in his voice and manner — “ unless 
you think you cannot be happy there.” 

“ Oh, I shall be happy enough,” he replied, with a laugh ; 
“ a lotus-eater’s existence will agree with me, I’ll be bound. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


251 


We shall lie in hammocks and smoke cigarettes and dream 
away the years. But it’s a kind of exile, and my wife is too 
good for that. That is chiefly why I would have stayed in 
England, had it been possi’ble.” 

“ But you don’t think it is possible,” she said, anxiously. 

“ There are too many of us here for all to make fortunes,” 
he said, shaking his head ; and if my wife cannot take a po- 
sition here that she deserves, it is better for us to go away. 
We shall still be young when we come back in ten years.” 

“In ten years,” said Nessa to herself, “I may come back 
with safety.” 

When Nessa heard the next evening that the arrangement 
was made, and that they were to sail for Buenos Ayres in 
seven days, she could hardly contain her delight, and her sub- 
sequent gaiety was almost painful to Sweyn, suggesting, as it 
did, a form of hysteria. 

There was much to do in preparing for this sudden depar- 
ture. Mr. Mulloch put one of his assistants in the Palace in 
order to free Nessa at once, and she spent nearly all her time 
with Sweyn in these preparations. They were days full of 
joy to both, tempered only by some moments of anxiety to 
Sweyn in perceiving at times an expression of intense pain 
p issing like a cloud over Nessa’s face. He attributed it to 
the natural reaction from feverish excitement. Such a 
“ reaction ” came one evening after he had been telling her 
about his past life and family relations. He seemed to be in- 
viting her confidence, and she would tell him nothing. Oh, 
if she could only relieve her heart of the secret that seemed 
to be cankering it, and tell him all ! But how was that pos- 
sible, when the proceedings he would inevitably institute to 
secure her estate would involve the disclosure that she Van- 
essa Grahame, was married to Anderson ? 

Her reticence about her antecedents did not astonish him. 
Without having reason to fear inquiry into her own life, a girl 
might well recoil from making known certain facts with re- 
gard to her parentage from simple delicacy. 

“ She will tell me all one of these days,” he said, to him- 
self ; “ she is not yet my wife.” 

One day he told her that, to get the special licence, his 
solicitor wanted to know the date and place of her birth. 
She looked at him aghast. 

“ I cannot tell you,” she gasped. 

“ Don’t let that frighten you, love,” he said ; “I daresay his 
Grace the Archbishop will dispense with that formality if he 
only gets his fees.” . 


252 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


He himself was doubtful whether he had been born in 
Kent or Surrey. 

Another “ reaction ” appeared in her face on opening the 
license which he had obtained and she had taken from his 
hand with hysterical mirth. She saw herself named there 
Viola Dancaster. She was to be married to the man she 
loved under a false name — she was to cheat the one she 
worshipped as her god. 

At last all was settled, and three days before they w^re to 
sail they went to the north to be married from the house of 
Sweyn’s brother. She won the hearts of Kobert Meredith 
and his wife and all the household by her beauty and grace, 
her sweetness and warmth. 

On the morning of the wedding, Nessa came down-stairs as 
white as a ghost. She had been fighting all night with her 
conscience and had come out of the struggle exhausted but 
victorious. She had trampled every scruple under foot for 
the love of this man ; but she could not rejoice. 

Before they started for the church Sweyn’s brother put an 
envelope in her hand. 

“My dear,” he said, “this is my wedding present — to be 
opened when 3’ou are my brother’s wife, not before.” 

Nessa dared not look to the right or the left as she went up 
the aisle. She knew' that the church w'as full of people. She 
dared not look for fear of meeting those wild, bloodshot 
eyes of her husband. When the vicar commanded any one 
who knew of any just reason why she and Sweyn should not 
be united, her heart stood still, and she expected to hear a 
voice break the silence, and tell that she was married to 
Anderson. 

But the silence was unbroken, and the marriage was 
made. 

“Now indeed, love, you are my wife,” said Sweyn, kissing 
her. 

She returned his kiss passionately ; but a voice within her 
said, “You are not his wife. You have not made him your 
husband by this crime.” 

“What matters it what I am?” she retorted, wildly ; “my 
love is mine, and down in that sunny land no one will come 
between us, and we will eat lotus together.” 

With that she pressed Sweyn’s arm to her bosom, and the 
color came back to her face. 

“ How do you like my present ? ” asked Bobert Meredith 
in the vestry. 

She opened the envelope, smiling, read the enclosure, and 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


253 


then like one struck with the pain of death, let it slip from 
her falling hand. 

It was a receipt from the trustees of a late eminent physi- 
cian in Ormond Street for a check paid by Kobert Meredith 
for the transfer to his brother Sweyn of the practice, together 
with the house and furniture, in Ormond Street. 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES. 

Nessa felt that a sword was hanging over her head which 
sooner or later must fall. She could not blind herself to con- 
templation of the future. It was too terrible for that. There 
was a fascination in it w'hich she could not resist. 

The opening for an active and useful career offered to 
Sweyn was not to be refused. He was not by nature indolent 
or self-indulgent — not a lotus eater ; his acquirements and 
talent fitted him for the position he was to take among emi- 
nent men of his profession ; and Nessa was at once too loving 
and too proud of her husband to persuade him from the path 
to greatness, even if she had found the pretext. 

She foresaw that as his wife she must be peculiarly exposed 
to the observation and criticism of London society, and it 
was hopeless to suppose that the secret of her life could long 
remain undiscovered. The result of that discovery was no 
less evident. Despite his broad views and passionate love 
for her, Sweyn would refuse to live with the wife of another 
man, and though he might share her misery he would not 
participate in her crime. Now, too late, she perceived that 
the consequences of her act would not be for her to bear 
alone ; the man she loved must be involved in her own shame 
and tribulation, and their fall must be the greater for the 
prominent height to which they w’ere now raised. 

If she had been a strong-minded woman she would have 
confessed all to her husband in this the eleventh hour. But 
she was not that. She was weak in many things. She was 
dominated by love, and that would not permit her to say the 
word which must put an end forever to the one joy of her 
life. 

Yet she yeanied to tell him all — to have no seci’et from 
him ; and the result of this yearning was that when they 
came to London she unburdened her mind in fugitive notes, 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


S54 

which she put together in a box, with the presentiment 
that Sweyn would read them when she was banished from his 
roof. 

Here are a few of these notes : 

“ This afternoon we took possession of our grand house in 
Ormond Street. When we had been through all the rooms, 
from the kitchen to the garret, and were come down again 
into the splendid drawing-room, my beloved Sweyn said, 
‘Yes, this is a very fine house, dear wife, but we must knock 
it about and make a comfortable home of it.’ Then having 
no thought but of my great happiness (for his arm was round 
my neck, and I held his dear hand against my cheek), we 
settled, laughing, that we would change the distribution of 
everything in the room, rehanging the pictures in better 
lights, and make it gay with flowers ; and going thence into 
the dining-room, we agreed to leave that as it was, and only 
dine there when we were obliged to, ic., when we have to 
entertain a large company, the room down-stairs being much 
lighter, cosier, and more suitable for two to dine in, with 
room besides at the table for one or two friends. 

“ Then we went into the study, which is also a fine room, 
but very severe and proper. I proposed that we should have 
the Japanese screen up from the morning room to shut off 
the anatomical studies, place the big arm chair with a nice 
soft rug before the fireplace, and turn out the Encyclopoedia 
Ih'itannica from the little case for Sweyn’s old books, keeping 
a shelf at the bottom for all his pipes, so that it would bo 
snug and cheerful for him when he wants to sit alone and 
smoke and read his favorite authors. ‘ That will be famous,’ 
said he ; ‘ you shall arrange it after your own heart and make 
it perfect. But the happiest hours I shall spend here will be 
those when my dear wife comes to my knee, and makes me 
forget my favorite author in a good long chat about nothing 
in particular.’ Till then I had been as gay and full of fun as 
he, but at those words my heart-string seemed to snap, and 
you could not tell what had so suddenly put out my mirth, 
my darling. I could not tell you, dear love, what I am writ- 
ing now. The thought flashed upon me that the day must 
come when I may not come to your knee, when you will sit 
alone in the room I am preparing for you. Oh, for the skill 
to make it so charming that you may forget my sorrow and 
shame, and find comfort there ! 

“ We keep three maid servants and a man who drives the 
brougham. They are good servants, and so no great art is 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


255 


required in managing them. Indeed, it requires more study 
to correct my own faults than theirs ; but I am doing my best 
to be punctual and neat and correct, and these efforts are 
more than rewarded by the evident satisfaction of my dear 
Svveyn. ‘Everything goes like clockwork under your man- 
agement,’ he said this evening ; ‘ these little dinners are sim- 
ply delightful. You must have had a lot of experience with 
servants, love.’ 

“ I told him I had a dresser all to myself in the latter part 
of my engagement at the International. ‘ But before that ? ’ 
he asked. I told him I was at school before that. ‘ But at 
home — for you went home sometimes, I suppose?’ ‘No, 
dear,’ I answered ; ‘ I had no home. When I left school I 
■went after a very little while to the International.’ ‘ Tell me 
all about it,’ he said, drawing me to him and taking me in 
his great, strong, tender arms, 

“ You wondered at my silence : you wondered why I 
trembled in your arms at such a slight request. I knew that 
if I told you any more I must tell you all. I could not feel 
your heart beating against mine and tell you a lie. I felt that 
if you pressed me to speak I must obey, whatever followed. 
But you silenced me with a kiss and a few gentle words, say- 
ing it was too soon to think of anything but the present. 
Oh, my darling, it must ever be too soon to part from you.” 

“ Sweyn took me with him in the brougham this morning, 
leaving me in the carriage while he visited his patients. The 
day was beautiful and warm, and it is a lovely little ‘ pill box,’ 
with just room for us two, and a little case in front for books. 
Swe^m was very gay, and gave me most amusing descriptions 
of his patients, who, he told me, were all suffering from the 
same complaint — nothing to do. He told me I had not 
looked so bright and well since our marriage, and I think 
that is why he was so full of spirits. Indeed, I have felt all 
day happy, for we have been married a fortnight to-day, and 
nothing has happened, so that I am beginning to hope all 
may yet go well. For though our marriage was published in 
two or three of the daily papers, it is scarcely likely that my 
enemies would look there for me. Nevertheless, while the 
brougham was standing in the crowded streets, I could not 
fix my attention on the book in my hands for thinking that 
among the many curious people who glanced into the car- 
riage one might recognize me.” 

“ After writing last night. I had a shock which threw down 
all the hopes I had built. The housemaid asked if she might 


256 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


go home to see her mother, who was ill — promising to be in 
by half-past ten at the latest, as her home, she said, was only 
in Eaton Street, Chelsea. I consented, though I fear not 
without betraying my embarrassment. I was overcome with 
the teiTible fear that this girl’s home might be the very house 
in which my husband had lodgings, and it is scarcely probable 
that any one in Eaton Street should have failed to hear about 
my marriage from the registrar, who told me he had pursued 
inquiries there. The girl did not return until past eleven, 
and then her manner almost confirmed my fears. For though 
usually well behaved and exact, she did not attempt to make 
any excuse for being late, but looked at me imimdently as if 
she knew that she had me at her mercy. And this, indeed, 
may be so. Sweyn was called out before the girl asked to go, 
and did not return until nearly twelve, so he kncAv nothing of 
this affair, yet the moment he came in he detected a change 
in me, and could hardly believe that I did not feel unw’ell. ‘ I 
can’t understand it,’ he said. ‘You never looked better, at 
any rate recently, than you looked this afternoon ; and now — ’ 
he paused and looked in my face anxiously as he laid his 
fingers on my wuist, ‘there is something wrong here that my 
art cannot fathom.’ Oh, would that it were within the scope 
of medical science to fathom my disease — even it w'ere to find 
that within a few weeks my life must end ! Oh, my darling 
love, that I might die in your arms with my shame undis- 
covered, that you might look back without reproach upon 
this little space of joy ! 

“I am ashamed of my cowardice when I think of the trifles 
that have alarmed me, and how gravely I distress my w’atch- 
ful, loving Sweyn by foolishly frightening myself. Eliza (the 
housemaid) goes about her work precisely the same as before 
going to Eaton Street the other night, and there is nothing 
in her manner to indicate even suspicion of my secret. She 
is a good-looking girl, and possibly did not go to Eaton Street 
at all — only making her mother’s illness an excuse to go out 
with a sweetheart. She was late in returning, and possibly 
had made up her mind to give me warning if I scolded her ; 
that would account for the impudent expression in her face, 
if it really existed ; but that may all have been the creation of 
my guilty fear. I must be bold, if only for his sake. 

“ Let me put it at the worst and face the situation. Dis- 
coveiy will come ; an end to these days of happiness snatched 
from Fate is inevitable ; well, and what then ? Is the fear of 
death to destroy the delight of living ? If these dear days 
are to be brief, shall I not devote every moment to enjoy- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


257 


ment, and leave care for the night when there is no more joy 
to have ? 

“I have been happier, and Sweyn has been hapi^ier, since 
I took my resolution to face my danger boldly, and live for 
the present, without thinking of the past or future. Yet I 
would not like to grow wickedly indifferent to my fault, for 
that might lead me to commit others. But how can I grow 
hard or wicked with Sweyn’slove to warm and soften my heart 
— such an example as his life to sustain a reverence for truth 
and goodness? To-day we received our first visit — the wife 

and daughters of Dr. calling upon us. I made up my 

mind to like them before I went into the drawing-room, and 
so I think won them over to liking me. When they wero 
gone, Sweyn kissed my hand, and told me he "was proud of 
me. Proud of me, my darling* ! If I went through this or- 
deal well and came out triumphant, if I behaved like a lad}”, 
it was through thinking that the finest gentleman in the whole 
world is my husband. For you are my husband, my darling 
Sweyn : not by the law of man, but by the law of God — by 
every sentiment and feeling that can sanctify and make mar- 
riage holy, and you alone are my husband. 

“ To-day, on going to the press for a duster, I found a 
number of Dlogeaen lying underneath the pile. It seemed 
most unlikely that Eliza or any of the servants would buy a 
paper of that kind, and I took it up, thinking that possibly it 
had been brought from Svveyn’s room. It was open at the 
column of ‘Passing Glances,’ devoted to the movements of 
society people, and the first name that met my eye was my 
husband’s. With anxious interest I read the paragraph. It 

told how the practice of the late Dr. had been taken up by 

Dr. Sweyn Meredith, and concluded with a brief, well- 
deserved encomium to Sweyn’s professional ability and per- 
sonal excellence.” 

Tne next paragraph ran thus : — 

“ ‘To the general public, however, Dr. Meredith is chiefly 
interesting as having lately married Miss Viola Dancaster, the 
charming lady who astonished all London a few months since 
by her beauty and daring. Dr. Meredith was present at the 
lateriiational at the time of the accident, which, but for his 
skill, would have proved fatid to the young equestrienne. She 
owed him her life ; she has given it to him. There are idyls 
even in Ormond Street.’ My first feeling on reading this 
paragraph was one of terror ; my first impulse to take away 
the paper and destroy it, all my old fears of Eliza reviving, 
for T could not doubt that the paper belonged to her — she 


258 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


usually arranging the house linen. My marriage was an- 
nounced in a way to attract attention, my previous name, and 
my present address given to direct the pursuit of enemies. 
But this feeling gave place to exultation when I discovered 
that the paper was more than a month old, for reflecting that 
these periodicals are never bought and scarcely ever looked at 
later than the week they are issued I may resonably conclude 
that all danger is past. And this again shows the folly of 
giving way to alarm. If I had known of this public an- 
nouncement when it appeared I should have had scarcely a 
day’s peace of mind since.” 


CHAPTEB XLVI. 

AT LAST ! 

One morning Johnson, the man servant, came to Nessa and 
said : 

“ If you please mum, there’s a pussoii wants to see you — a * 
female.” 

“What does she want?” asked Nessa, ever ready to take 
alarm, despite her resolutions. 

“ She says it’s private afiairs, mum.” 

“ Where is she ? ” 

“ Well, mum, she’s on the doorstep at present. She looks 
such a very shady pusson — if you’ll excuse me — that I didn’t 
think it safe to leave her in the hall with the humberellas.” 

“Did she give any name?” 

“Kedman — Mrs. Eedman I believe she called herself, 
mum.” 

Nessa had purposely turned to the table on which she ’was 
arranging flowers as she put the question, and it was Nvell she 
did so, for her face as she heard the reply would have fur- 
nished gossip for the kitchen had Johnson seen it. 

“ Not at home, mum,” the man suggested, as Nessa stood 
silently fingering the flower before her. 

With an effort Nessa forced herself to answer with a steady 
voice : 

“ I will come down,” she said ; “ show her into the morn- 
ing-room.” 

As the door closed behind the man, Nessa turned from the 
table, the flowers slipping from her fingers and scattering on 
the floor unnoticed by her. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


259 


“At last — at last!” she gasped. “Oh, God, give me 
strength and guide me, for I am weak, and know not what 
to do!” 

She stood with her chin sunk upon her breast, and her fin- 
gers clasped till she heard the door of the morning-room 
close ; then, spurred by the dread of Sweyn returning before 
she had got the woman out of the house, she started from 
her attitude of helpless dejection, and with an expression of 
fixed determination iu her face ran down -stairs and entered 
the morning-room. Her step was so light and swift, her en- 
trance so sudden, that Mrs. Redmond was surj)rised with her 
hand in the opened drawer of a cabinet. 

“ I’m looking at the pretty things you’ve got here,” she said, 
in a hoarse, grating voice, scarcely above a whisper. “ What’s 
the matter, chummy ? Aren’t you glad to see me ? ” she 
added, as Nessa shrunk away at her approach. 

The woman was inconceivably altered. Her dress, and the 
remnants of flashy finery upon her, were frayed, mud-stained, 
faded, and puckered with exposure to rain ; her hair had re- 
turned to its natural hue and texture of dull tow ; she had 
made no attempt to “make up” her face ; there was disease 
in the dull, leaden eyes, the purple orbits, and the yellow folds 
of skin that hung loose and watery from her prominent cheek 
bones. But these signs of physical and moral degradation 
repelled Nessa less than the vindictive sinister expression in 
her face. 

“ What do you want ? ” Nessa asked, with horror in her 
hushed voice. 

“I’ll tell you what I want directly, chummy. Give me 
your hand.” 

“ No ; keep away from me. You are my enemy ; I know 
it. If you come near me I will ” 

“You will have me put out of doors. That’s what you 
meant to saj", only you thought better of it. You daren’t do it. 
You’re afraid of me, or you wouldn’t have let me in to your fine 
house — you sneaking cowardly little devil. You could come to 
me fast enough when you needed help, but when I need a Hft, 
you can think about turning me out in the street. That’s your 
gratitude for all I’ve done to help you out of your scrapes. 
Look at me! I came out of the hospital yesterday. I’ve 
spent the night in the streets, and my last coppers went for 
a glass of spirits to keep body and soul together this morn- 
ing. Don’t imagine I want your pity. I’d sooner be carried 
to the workhouse than ask you for charity. I come here to 
take what you owe me.” 

17 


260 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ What I owe you ! ” 

“ That’s it. When I gave up my house and everything to 
help you, I gave you half I had. I saved your life. I saved 
you from beggary. I put you into the International, and was 
a willing stepping-stone to your present position. We agreed 
to share whatever fortune came to us. I have kept my part 
of the agreement; now you’ve got to keep yours.” 

“You shall have half of my fortune when it is mine to 
give.” 

“ Oh, that game’s up. I’ve been fool enough to play for 
those stakes while I thought I could play the game out, but 
I’m not such a fool as to go on at it now. I shall be dead in six 
months. They gave me less than that at the hospital ; but 
I’ll live six months with care and the money to buy what I 
know will keep me alive. If you were to offer me the whole 
of your fortune — when you get it, and signed a paper to bind 
you to it, which is more — I wouldn’t change it for what I 
mean to get out of you now.” 

“ I have nothing,” Nessa said, extending her hands in de- 
spair. 

“ Nothing ! ” croaked the woman, choking with furj", for 
she had actually worked herself up to believe in her own 
false representations. “ Nothing ! You dare tell me that, 
with those rings on your fingers. Understand me — I’m 
not a fool, and not to be cheated. You’ve caught this swell 
doctor, and I’m going to have my share of the plunder. We 
go halves — do you hear ? halves ! And now we’ll begin the 
division. Give me one of those gem rings and that wedding 
ring. You can replace that with the other one — you don’t 
want two.” 

Nessa shook her head in speechless dismay, clasping the 
rings Sweyn had given her, and which she would not part 
with for all the world. 

“ What ! you stick at a trifle like that,” pursued Mrs. Red- 
mond. “ You must be pretty dense if you don’t understand 
me, for I speak plain enough. I tell you I’ll have half of 
everything you have. For convenience, I’ll take it in instal- 
ments, but I won’t leave this house till I’ve got stuff to make 
up for the weeks and months of misery I’ve been brought to 
through 3'ou.” 

Nessa saw no possibility of escape ; she turned to the door 
in silence. Something in the look of her eyes alarmed Mrs. 
Redmond. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” she asked, stepping forward 
hastily and setting her foot against the door. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


261 


“lam not going to do what you want me to do,” Nessa 
replied, without faltering ; “ that is impossible. What shall 
I do,” she added with dreamy ^vender — “ what I shall do I 
know no more than you. But I shall know when Dr. Mere- 
dith returns.” 

“What! does he know you’re Anderson’s wife?” asked 
the woman, in her turn dismayed. 

Nessa looked at her in silent scorn. 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked Mrs. Kedmond, impatient- 

ly- 

“Do you think he would suffer me to live in his house if 
he knew that I am not his wife ? ” 

“I daresay he could swallow his fine feelings, like the rest 
of men, if it suited him,” Mrs. Bedmond sneered. “But 
I suppose it wouldn’t suit him, as he’s a doctor, and has to 
keep up a character for respectability. But he’d make you 
some sort of allowance, surely.” 

Nessa turned away in disgust, and covered her face with 
her hands in shame. 

“ He must give you something, he’s a gentlemen, I sup- 
pose.” 

“ He’s a gentleman, and could not insult even an enemy. 
He will not offer to pay me ” 

The passionate sentence ended there, and she burst into 
tears. 

Mrs. Bedmond looked on for a moment in vexed perplex- 
ity. Delicate sensibilities were quite beyond her compre- 
hension ; but she had the sense to see that she had gone too 
far in her furious determination to extort blackmail, and that 
if she did not restore hope and confidence to Nessa, her own 
gain would be of an unpleasant kind. She had a pretty 
sound conception that Dr. Meredith would not content him- 
self with merely turning her out of his house ; he would more 
likely detain her until the police took her in charge for fur- 
ther examination. 

“ Look here, chummy ; don’t take on like this,” she said, 
endeavoring to soften her grating voice to a soothing mur- 
mur as she laid her hand on Nessa’s arm. 

Nessa shrank away from that repulsive touch, and dashed 
the tears from her eyes. 

“ Come, chummy, come,” whined the woman, setting her 
head aside with abject entreaty in her unhealthy face, “don’t 
look at me like that. I know I’ve gone too far, and said 
things I didn’t mean ; but you must make some allowance for 
my misery and need. You see what a poor, miserable wretch 


262 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


I am,” she pleaded, catching at the pity that dawned in the 
girl’s face. “ Lord knows I don’t want to upset you, |ind 
part you from this nice, kind doctor — why should I ? My 
only hope of escaping from the workhouse and living a few 
months depends on my getting a little help from you. Why, 
I hung about the corner of the street over an hour not to 
call on you till I saw the doctor was well out of the way in 
his cari’iage. Look here, chummy, don’t you think of telling 
him, if it’s to put an end to your happiness and bring you to 
shame. Why should you ? You were only half married to 
Anderson, and that half can’t be legal, as he was out of his 
mind. I take my oath I didn’t know it then. Look at me — 
it’s such miseiy as mine you plunge yourself into by giving 
way to this foolish impulse. You always w'ere impulsive — 
you know you w’ere — and repented it afterwards. And if 
you are really fond of this doctor, you may think that it 
won’t be a very pleasant thing for him ” 

“I am thinking of him,” Nessa said. 

“Well, look how it would damage him in his profession — 
a scandal of this sort ! ” 

Nessa assented, but she was not thinking of the scandal or 
professional position ; but of how he w^ould sit alone in his 
room at night, and the grief that W'ould wring his heart. 

“Then why should you do such a foolish thing for nothing, 
when you may both live happily till the end of your lives ? 
Hexham’s taken Anderson back to America ; Cummings has 
got a berth in Scotland ; and not another soul in the world 
is living to trouble you. For it isn’t likely I shall bother you. 
All I want is a little bit now and then.” She looked round 
the room greedily. “ There’s such a lot of things in a house 
like this — plate and one thing and another — one article or 
two would never be missed out of so many.” 

“No, no! that is impossible,” said Nessa, in horror; 
“nothing shall persuade me to rob him.” 

Mrs. Eedmond at a loss how to manage the squeamish 
girl, bit her lips in silence for a moment, then : 

“You don’t mean to say you’ve got nothing,” she said. 
“Look here, doesn’t he allow you money for housekeeping?” 

“ It is his money.” 

“ Oh, bother ! ” Mrs. Redmond was losing temper again in 
this trying exercise of finding excuses for Nessa as well as for 
herself. “ He can’t expect you to account for every farthing. 
He must allow you something over for little expenses of 3’our 
own — pin money, and so on. And if he didn’t, certainly you 
could economize, and so save something for me.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


263 


Nessa received money for housekeeping ; more than she 
needed. With pride she had shown Sweyn the surplus left 
after paying all the week’s bills, and he had told her to put 
it by for a rainy day. Well, surely, she thought, he could 
not object, if he knew it, to her giving what she had to supply 
the needs of this woman. She put her hand in her pocket 
and produced the purse in which she kept this surplus. 

“I think I may give you this ; it is all I have.” Mrs. Ked- 
mond snatched it hastily. 

“ At present— but you’ll save some more for me, won’t 
you ? ” she said, opening the purse. There was gold inside. 
“ Don’t look frightened. I shan’t come again for a long time ; 
not till this is all gone. And I shall take precious good care 
to come when it’s quite safe. That reminds me that I’d 
better go before the servants get curious. You can tell your 
husband in their hearing that I’m an old servant of yours. 
Now I’ll be off.” And as she opened the door, she croaked 
loud enough to be heard by any listening servant, and with 
a wink at Nessa, “I’m deeply grateful for your kindness, Mrs. 
Meredith, ma’am. And if ever you should want any one to 
help in the house, I shall be only too glad to come: you- 
know I was never above a bit of honest, hard work.” 

Round the corner of the street she joined Cummings. He 
stood there waiting for her, seedy and down at heel, with his 
hands in his pockets and a hang-dog look in his face. 

“ Well, how did you get on — what have you screwed out of 
her?” he asked, falling in with her quick pace. 

“ Four or five shillings — that’s all,” she answered, gloomily. 

‘ ‘ It’s no go screwing her.” 

“She’ll have to be screwed.” 

“I’ll tell you what will happen then. She’ll tell the doctor 
everything, and bolt without a penny. She’s likely enough 
to do it without screwing.” 

“ Well, what’s to be done ? I’ve ruined myself through 
this cursed job.” 

“ I’ll tell .you what must be done. We must go for the big 
stakes. You know — we must do what we were talking about 
last night. Have you been round to the mansions ? ” 

Vpq 

“Well?” 

“ Hexham’s still there.” 

“ And the madman ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then we must do it ! ” 


264 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


CHAPTEK XLVn. 

THE LAST ATTEMPT, 

When Sweyn returned from his round that afternoon, 
Nessa met him in the hall, and leading him into his own 
room, said : 

“ I want to tell you at once, love, something that has hap- 
pened while you were away. The woman I lived with at the 
time of my accident ” 

“ Mrs. Merrivale ? ” 

“ Yes ; she called upon me. She is very ill, very poor, and 
she has no friends or occupation. She wanted money, and I 
gave her all I had.” 

“And so you need some more to go on with, eh ? ” he sug- 
gested, cheerfully. 

“ Oh, no, no, no ! The money you let me have for the 
week is upstairs. I only had my purse with the savings I 
have made in my pocket. I gave her that.” 

“Well?” he said, interrogatively. 

“ That is all I can tell you, love,” she answered, nervously, 
stroking his hand as she looked into his face with sad, serious 
eyes. 

He laughed and hugged her to his side. 

“Why, you dear, mysterious little soul, that’s nothing. I 
thought you had something terrible to relate ; that solemn, 
grave, beautiful face filled me with all sorts of apprehensions. 
You don’t regret giving your savings, do 5'ou ? ” 

“ No ; but I felt that I must tell you all — all that I could 
tell you.” 

“ Believe me, I want to know no more than that, dear wife. 
But we will not dismiss this subject without another word. 
I should think Mrs. Merrivale would call on you again. It’s 
natural she should, you know.” His eye twinkled with sup- 
pressed mirth. “ That sort of thing is liable to become tedi- 
ous to you, and it must be uncomfortable to her whenever 
she calls to accept gifts. Now, don’t you think it would be 
more pleasant for all parties if we lent her a certain sum to 
invest in a small business that would give her occupation and 
restore a feeling of independence? ” 

“ Sweyn, Sweyn— dear, generous Sweyn ! ” she sobbed. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 265 

■winding her arms round his neck, and with closed eyes 
drawing his face down to hers. 

She was exuberantly gay after this little scene. It seemed 
as if forgiving Heaven were smiling upon her, and all the 
clouds rolling away over the horizon. Her husband, Hexham 
and Cummings all gone ; Mrs. Redmond settled and content 
as she must be with the liberal provision promised by Sweyn 
— what was there to fear ? Nothing could trouble her peace ; 
no shadow fall upon this happy future. 

Unfortunately, Mrs. Redmond did not know of the good 
fortune awaiting her. By ignoring the good policj^ of truth 
and candor, she could not foresee the happy turn taken 
through Nessa’s departure from her counsel. 

Nessa was anxious to impart the good news to her — to make 
known her dear Sweyn’s generosity. A fortnight passed ; 
Mrs. Redmond made no sign. Nessa took that as a sign of 
the woman’s moderation and became more and more con- 
vinced that her peril was past — poor fool ! 

She had a room of her own, but she preferred Sweyn’s 
study when she was not puzzling very hard over some self- 
imposed task. She was now forever striving to “ improve ” 
herself. In her husband’s study she could feast her eyes on 
the evidence of his prodigious acquirements in the ro'^^s of 
scientific books he understood, and the curious cases of in- 
struments on the shelf which at one time she shuddered to 
look at, and where there was a prevalent odor of tobacco 
which she loved because tobacco was dear to him. She was 
seated in his chair one afternoon when Johnson came in by 
the door from the passage. 

“If you please, mum, there are two pussons to see the 
doctor — males ; and they wish to know how long it will bo 
before he’s in.” 

“ He will be in by five o’clock,” Nessa replied, looking at 
the timepiece. It was now a quarter-past four. “ Did you 
say they were gentlemen ? ” 

“Males, mum. Patients, appearantly. One of them looks 
very po’rly — a gentleman ; the other looks like a messenger, 
or something of that, sent to take care of him. Had to help 
him in by the arm.” 

“ Show them in the consulting-room if they choose to wait.” 

“ I have done so, mum. They are in there now.” 

They were there — Cummings, the “messenger or some- 
thing of that,” with his ear to the door at the end of the room 
which opened into the doctor’s study ; his hand on the arm 
of the gentleman, James Anderson. When Johnson entered 


266 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


by the other door to tell them the doctor would be home iu 
three-quarters of an hour both were seated on the couch, the 
gentleman with his eyes closed. 

Cummings nodded, with a glance at xinderson, to signify 
that they would wait, and Johnson withdrew. 

“ It’s all right,” whispered Cummings. “ You’ve got three- 
quarters of an hour to get rid of the devil.” 

Anderson was on the alert in a moment. 

“ He’s in there — the devil you sold your soul to, you know,” 
Cummings continued. 

Anderson nodded eagerly. 

“ The one I’ve been hunting for ever since I got out of 
hell ? ” he asked, putting his lips close to Cummings’s ear. 

“ Yes. He’s at his old tricks again — taken the shape of a 
beautiful woman.” 

Anderson nodded and winked, a cunning grin bareing his 
clenched teeth. 

“ It’s no good trying the long game again,” said Cummings. 

Anderson pursed up his lips and shook his head vehemently. 

“You failed last time through being too slow.” 

Anderson assented with a nod and furious scowl. 

“You’ll have to do it sharp. Hexham will never let you 
out of the waistcoat if he catches you before it’s done.” 

Anderson started to his feet and dipped his hand in his 
pocket with desperate haste. 

Cummings rose, also, laying a hand upon his arm, sharply. 

“ Don’t be a fool and lose your last chance by want of cau- 
tion. You can be sharp without being rash ; you must get 
your opportunity'.” 

Anderson snatched his arm away impatiently. 

“ Let me alone,” he muttered ; “ do you think I don’t know 
all that?” 

“ Wait a bit ; there may be more than one in the next room. 
The right one may not be there. If she’s gone we may have 
to wait for another chance.” 

He went to the door opening into the study, and laying 
hold firmly of the handle, turned it by imperceptible degrees 
till the catch was withdrawn from the lock and the door, 
.fielding to the slight pull, slowly gaped. With the same 
noiseless movemex-L he turned the handle back to its original 
position as he perceived Nessa through the opening seated 
before the fireplace with her back to the door. He saw her 
face mirrored in the inclined glass over the chimney-piece. 
Anderson, craning over his shoulder, saw it also, and with 
instant perception that the glass which revealed her to them 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


267 


would reveal them to her if she chanced to look up, quickly 
crouched down, drawing Cummings back with an agony of 
apprehension in his face. The two bending low nodded to 
each other significantly. 

“Are you ready?” breathed Cummings, livid with horror 
of the thing he was doing. 

Anderson replied by a nod, and slid silently down on all 
fours. 

“ Wait until I’m outside before j^ou begin. I must bolt 
the street door for fear of Hexham,” Cummings whispered. 

Anderson took no notice of the caution, but with cat-like 
stealth drew the door wider open to permit of his passing in. 
At the last glance back, as he slipped out into the hall, Cum- 
mings saw that Anderson was already half through the door. 
With a rapid step he crossed the hall, opened the street door, 
and without pausing to close it, ran down the street. 

It was Mrs. Kedmond w’ho waited round the corner this 
time. His face told the tale the moment he came in sight. 
Without waiting for him to join her she hurried on in the 
direction he was taking. Coming to her side, he dropped 
into a rapid walk, which slje with difficulty accommodated 
her pace to. 

“ Has he done it ? ” she asked. 

“It’s all over by this time,” he answered. 

They said no more, but hurried on, panting for breath. 
There was a ’bus passing the end of the street. Cummings 
hailed it hoarsely, and both ran to overtake it. No other 
passengers were on the top. When she had recovered breath, 
Mrs. Eedmond asked for particulars, and Cummings gave 
them in brief. She was discontented, even though accident 
had favored their design beyond expectation. 

“Supposing he doesn’t do it after all? ’’she said, petu- 
lantly. 

“ Then we shall be no worse off than we were before. It 
was only an experiment, and it turned out ever so much bet- 
ter than I thought it would. What else did you want ?” 

“ You shouldn’t have come away so soon. Time enough 
to bolt when he’d done it.” 

“And been caught.” 

“ There was no danger of that. It would be seen that he 
was a maniac ; his name wouldn’t be known.” 

“ And Hexham, when the thing got in the papers ? ” 

“He wouldn’t have stirred in the matter, to take the re- 
sponsibility for having let the man get out of his hands 
twice. ” 


268 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ I wasn’t going to risk that. Besides, I tell you, slie can’t 
escape.” 

“ For all you know. If she does, we’ve lost our tool, and 
shan’t get him again ; that’s sure. Much better have looked 
about, and brought him away, saying you’d call another day. 
You might have found out her room, and got him in there 
next time, if you hadn’t the courage to see it through. Or if 
you’d followed my plan of drawing her into some hotel, and 
shutting her in a room with him.” 

“Oh, shut up, you croaking old — Wait till the evening 
papers come out, then you’ll see whether I’m a fool or not. 
Get down. We’ll take that other ’bus.” 

Nessa, bending over her German Grammar, heard a move- 
ment in the direction of the consulting room ; but knowing 
patients were awaiting the return of Sweyn she disregarded the 
sound — only it seemed to her that the movement was partic- 
ularly distinct' considering that the door was closed. She heard 
the street door shut, another door open — the further door of the 
consulting room. But when she heard a rap at the door be- 
hind her, she raised her head, and, turning round, saw John- 
son, with a look of perplexity in his face, in the entrance. 

“ I beg pardon, mum, but I was going to ask you if j^ou 
had seen anything of the two pussons.” 

“No ; I have seen nobody,” said Nessa, rising, and la3dng 
down her book. 

“ I thought you might, as tins door is half open.” 

“ Are the gentlemen gone ? ” she asked in astonishment, 
going to the door of the consulting-room. 

“ Clean gone, mum. I heard the street door open, and ran 
upstairs at once, and they must have heard me and took to 
their heels, for I see not a sign of any one when I looked 
down the street.” 

“ What can it mean ? ” 

“ Thieves, mum : that’s what it means. I didn’t like the 
look of the one in the long black cloak — looked like one of 
those pussons that preaches in the parks, and the other was 
shamming sidk for an excuse. They know the doctor goes 
out after lunch, and reckoned on getting his instruments or 
something out of the study ; but seeing you they were 
baulked in their puppos, and gave up the job. It’s frequently 
done. My last master was robbed in that wa}', aud he took 
care afterwards to lock the door of the study inside before he 
went out.” 

The explanation was conclusive. Nessa left Johnson ex- 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


269 


amining the periodicals on the table of the consulting room, 
with a view to seeing if any had been taken, and, withdrawing 
into the study, turned the key in the lock as a precaution for 
the future. She glanced at the clock ; in a quarter of an 
hour, at the furthest, Sweyn would be home. There was 
just time to put her books away and set the room straight. 
Tlie books packed on the shelf above S-weyn’s beloved pipes, 
his chair pushed back in its customary place, she glanced 
round to see if anything else needed arranging. Then her 
e3ms falling on the shelf in the case beyond the screen, she 
noticed with surprise that the velvet-lined lid of a box of in- 
struments stood open. Crossing the room to examine more 
closely, she discovered that one of the long dissecting knives 
was gone from its place. Was it possible that one of the 
thieves had passed behind her, opened the box, and taken the 
knife, she asked herself ? It seemed hardly possible. An- 
other supposition — that the thief, alarmed by the sound of 
Johnson entering the adjoining room, had found no time to 
escape, and had armed himself with the knife for defence — 
caused her to turn her eyes toward the recess behind the 
screen. 

With a horror-stifled cry, she drew back on perceiving the 
dim figure of a man in the shadow of the screen, crouching 
as if to spring upon her with the gleaming knife in his hand. 
Breathless with terror, she drew back step by step toward 
the door of the consulting room — the door into the passage 
lying beyond the screen — keeping her face toward the man, 
who like a cat hesitating to spring upon the prey it is uncer- 
tain of reaching, shifted his position, and stole upon her step 
by step. 

Suddenly it flashed upon Nessa’s recollection that she had 
locked the door ; to open it she must turn her back upon this 
man, and expose herself to his attack. The quivering of the 
knife showed her that the man was nerving himself for the 
spring. She strove to scream ; but the horror which 
prompted the cry silenced it in her paralyzed throat. There 
was a long table in the middle of the room : she thought of 
it in this last extremity ; and just as the man bent suddenly 
down to spring, she turned, and in a moment placed herself 
upon the further side of it. 

As she reached this temporary barrier she looked back. 
The man had come from the shadow of the screen, and stood 
now facing the light. She recognized him, distorted as his 
face was with demoniacal fury, and faintly gasped : 

“ My husband I ” 


270 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


He seemed to perceive the paralyzing fascination he exer- 
cised upon her, and drew stealthily upon her until he reached 
the table, and there again he stood, undetermined whether to 
chase her round it or to vault across. In that moment the 
street door closed, and Nessa’s strained perception recognized 
Sweyn’s step in the passage. 


CHAPTER XLVm. 

RESPITE. 

Anderson heard the sounds also, and instantly the whole 
expression of the man changed from savage ferocity to cow- 
ering apprehension ; the fear of Hexham overcoming the 
craving to rid himself of a supposed tormentor. The hand 
with the knife dropped to his side ; his head shrank between 
his shoulders, and he looked wildly round for a means of es- 
cape. Nessa, seeing her advantage, flew swift as thought to 
the door behind her, turned the key, opened it, and dropped 
fainting into Swejm’s arms as he stepped quickly to meet her. 

“ My poor child, what is the matter ? ” he asked. 

She made no answer ; her head rolled back from his shoul- 
der Avith the Avaxen hue on it which he had seen when he des- 
paired of her life. 

“ There’s been thieves in the place, sir ; that’s what’s fright- 
ened the missis,” exclaimed the sapient Johnson. 

“ Water, quick ! ” said Sweyn. 

He carried her to the couch, in the consulting-room, and 
laid her there at full length. 

Johnson returned with water, the two maids following at 
his heels, and the cook peering in from the passage door. 

Sweyn dashed a little Avater in Nessa’s face and took other 
means to restore her, while Johnson, in a Ioav tone, narrated 
all that he knew Avith regard to the visits of the “ tAvo pus- 
sons,” to which the Avomen servants listened for perhaps the 
tenth time, agape with curiosity. As soon as Nessa showed 
signs of returning consciousness, Sweyn, with a sign, sent 
the servants away and raising Nessa into a sitting posture 
seated himself beside her, supporting her with his arm. She 
looked about her wildly, and flnding him at her side clasped 
his hand and murmured eagerly : 

“ It is you, love ! ” 

“ Yes I ; your husband, darling. Don’t be frightened. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


271 


There’s no one to harm you. I am here. Don’t trouble to 
think about it. I know all. A couple of pilfering thieves 
came into the place and sneaked out when they saw you pro- 
tecting our goods and chattels. Well, that shows that they 
are not very terrible at any rate. There, now you feel 
stronger.” 

She pressed his hand for response. Her palm was wet, her 
fingers icy cold, and she trembled violently. 

“You’re cold, aren’t you? We’ll have a cosy hour in the 
big chair before dinner ; is there a fire in the study ? ” 

He rose as he asked the question as if he intended to go in 
and see. She clung to his hand, restraining him with almost 
frantic anxiety. He regarded her in silent perplexity. 

“We won’t go in there, if j^ou would wish not,” he said. 
“ You are shaken and unnerved by this imaginary danger. It 
will be better still if you lie down in your own room for a lit- 
tle while. Let me take jmu up.” 

She assented to this silently and by gesture, for terror 
seemed to have deprived her of the power to speak. With 
overwhelming dread, she passed the entrance of the stud}'’ on 
her way to the staircase. Only Sweyn’s powerful arm sus- 
tained her trembling form. Her room was the first from the 
head of the stairs ; the door stood open: Sweyn led her in, 
and having placed her in her favorite lounge, turned back 
the bed-clothes and arranged the pillows ; while she looked 
on bewildered and speechless. He lifted her up and laid her 
on the bed ; then he covered her, talking with cheerful kind- 
ness the while. He sat down by the bedside continuing to 
chat until he noticed that her eyes closed. She was striving 
to control her tumultuous ideas, and decide what she ought 
to do. 

Presently she noticed that he had ceased to speak, and 
opening her eyes she saw him going noiselessly toward the 
door. The idea that he was about to go down into the study 
where her husband waited with that horrible knife, brought a 
cry of terror to her lips ; and when he turned quickly to find 
the cause, he found that she had thrown back the clothes and 
sprung from the bed. 

“ My dear, dear love, what is it ? ” he muttered, soothingly, 
as he ran back to her side and took her again to his breast. 

“ You — you must not go down there,” she faltered. 

“ I will stay up beside you if you wish it.” He seated her 
and himself upon the side of the bed, with a dawning convic- 
tion that something more than the cause attributed by John- 
son underlay this unaccountable agitation. 


272 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 

“Darling,” he said with gentle firmness, “you must tell 
me what has happened — what it is that ” 

He stopped, for it was clear that Nessa was not listening to 
him — nob even thinking of him. Her eyes w’ere fixed on 
something near the window, whilst her bosom rose and fell 
quickly to her painful gasping for breath. "What was it she 
saw there to alarm her, he asked himself, looking quickly in 
the direction oi her strenuous regard ? 

Certainly the window curtain did bulge out, taking the 
form of a man’s shoulder ; he rose sharply, resolved by a 
movement to dispel her fears if this were the cause. 

With a scream of terror she sprang up, and throwing her- 
self before him clutched his hand, while she turned her bosom 
toward the man with the knife whom she knew well had 
taken refuge behind the curtain. 

The peril was real enough, as Sweyn saw the next instant 
when the curtain was swept back and Anderson sprang out 
with the dissecting knife in his restless hand. 

With the swift, decisive judgment of a man trained to meet 
sudden emergencies, Swe^m measured the danger and his 
own resources. Passing his left arm quickly round Nessa as 
she stood between him and the knife, he swung her to his side, 
and taking one stride forward, with his right hand seized Ander- 
son’s arm as he raised it to strike ; then with his disengaged 
left, he grasped the maniac by the throat, thrust him back, and 
pinned him choking against the wall. It was done in an instant. 

For a few seconds, Anderson, writhed and struggled furi- 
ously to free himself from the iron grip, and then, exhausted 
by the effort, purple in the face under the garrote, he let the 
knife slip from his nerveless fingers. Nessa dashed forward, 
and Hung it to the further end of the room ; but the dan- 
ger was past. As Sweyn relaxed his left hand, Anderson 
dropped to the ground like a lump of clay. Kneeling beside 
him, Sweyn glanced anxiously at Nessa. 

“ Wbat shall Ido?” she gasped. 

“ Fetch me the long bath towel. There’s a brave woman,” 
he added, as she brought it quickly to him. “I might have 
known that you wouldn’t give in while your help was needed. 
You see, there’s no danger now ; the poor wretch is as feeble 
as a child. Double the towel ; now lay it crosswise under 
his shoulders — a little lower — so. We must fasten his arms 
down for the present, in case of another outbreak. Are you 
there, Johnson ? ” he asked, catching the sound of a subdued 
cough in the passage. 

“ Yussir ; I thought I heard a noise, sir ” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


273 


“ Quite right. You did. Come here and help me.” 

“ Lord, sir, you’ve got one of the thieves there,” said John- 
son, in astonishment. 

“ You mustn’t say that of a patient. Now, then, lift him 
up on his feet. Have you been in the profession, Johnson, 
ever since you wore buttons, and not learnt the symptoms of 
this iDoor fellow’s disease ? There, now ; help him into the 
spare room, and stay with him till I come.” 

He talked in this strain with a specific object — making 
light of the afifair to give Nessa confidence until his hands 
were free to minister to her wants. All the time he was occu- 
pied with Anderson he kept a keen eye on her, aware that 
her strength would give out as the excitement abated. He 
saw her totter to the dressing-table, and rest her hands upon 
it for support ; she was swaying to and fro with closed eyes 
as he turned from Anderson. 

“Nowit’s your turn, my brave little wife,” he said, and 
taking her in his arms he again carried her to the bed, and 
laid her down. She opened her eyes, and smiled at him 
faintly, but with ineffable love from her pillow, and then cov- 
ered her face with her hands. From head to foot she trem- 
bled violently. Sweyn piled on the blankets, and put hot 
water to her feet : but for an hour nothing availed to subdue 
the convulsive quivering of her frame. She never spoke — 
never took her hands from her face. 

It was no time to ask questions ; Sweyn was concerned 
only for her recovery from the shock. He only left her side 
to go into the adjoining room, where Johnson was watching 
the exhausted madman. 

“ I’ve been to see my other patient,” he said to her on his 
return with a view to soothing her and any remaining cause of 
agitation. “ He is quite calm, poor fellow, and grateful for 
kind treatment. I suspect he has been in the hands of some 
one who doesn’t understand the proper management of such 
sufferers. He is as reasonable as a man in his condition can 
be ; but I can learn nothing from him with regard to his 
friends, residence, and general circumstances. He cannot 
even tell his name. An utter loss of memory is one of the 
chief characteristics of his disease. He seems absolutely at 
a loss to account for his coming to the house, and I be- 
lieve is equally unconscious who brought him. It’s clear that 
he has friends. His dress, and the fact that he is not in an 
asylum, prove that. If I knew who they were, I could send 
for them at once. But as that seems beyond hoping for, I 
suppose I must communicate with the police.” 


274 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


Nessa pushed back the clothes in which her face had been 
buried, and looking up into Sweyn’s face, with earnest en- 
treaty, said : 

“ Must you do that? ” 

“Well, I suppose I ought to do it for the sake of his 
friends.” 

“ But for my sake, don’t,” she pleaded. 

He concealed the astonishment this demand created, and 
replied smiling : 

“ It was chiefly for your sake I wished to remove him from 
the house. But if ” 

“ Wait till the morning — only till the morning, my dar- 
ling,” she prayed, catching his hand. 

“ With all my heart, if you wish it, love.” 

She kissed his hand, and her tears trickled down upon it 
— tears of joy and gratitude for this last brief respite. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

STAVING OFF THE INEVITABLE. 

Nessa only rose to make her toilette for the night with the 
aid of her maid. When Sweyn came up late in the evening 
and, bending over her anxiously, took her wrist in his hand, 
she said : 

“ Don’t be anxious about me, love ; I am quite calm ; the 
trembling has all gone.” 

“ Yes, thank God, you will do now. Your wonderful con- 
stitution is proof against every attack ; but you need a quiet 
night, so we won’t talk about anything.” 

“ No, we will leave it all to tell to-morrow morning. It is 
early yet, isn’t it?” 

“ Nine o’clock.” 

She smiled, making a mental calculation of the hours that 
yet remained before she must tell aU, and lose this dear, dear 
friend forever. 

“ I have some stiff reading to do. Shall I bring my book 
up here ? ” he asked. 

“ Do, love. Bring the little table and your reading quite 
close to me. I will not say a word.” 

He disposed the lamp upon the table by her bedside as she 
wished, and drew his chair up so that he could see her face 
when he turned. Then he lowered the shade that the light 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


275 


might not fall upon her pillow and settled himself down to 
read. She drew by insensible degrees as near to him as it 
was possible and feasted her eyes upon that downbent, thought- 
ful face which to her was the type of all that was beautiful 
and good in the world. He sat there readiug for hours ; she 
never made an audible movement ; whenever he turned he 
found her eyes wide open, meeting his, and a smile broke 
over her face — the sweetest, saddest smile. Once he felt a 
touch upon his arm, and disregarded it, but later on in mov- 
ing he felt it again, and looking down discovered that her 
hand had crept out and touched the sleeve of his coat. 

When midnight was past he said, half closing the book and 
shaking his head, gravely : 

“Not yet asleep, wife?” 

“ Not yet,” she answered. “But I will try to sleep. Kiss 
me, my darling, before I close my eyes.” 

He knelt by the bedside, laid his face upon her pillow, and 
drew her toward him. 

She closed her eyes resolutely, but he knew by her breath- 
ing, by her face still turned toward him, that she had not 
fallen asleep. Toward daybreak, indeed, he perceived that 
she was less composed than she had been earlier. The mus- 
cles of her lips moved involuntarily at times, and there were 
other signs of some mental agitation which perplexed and 
troubled him. What project was she working out in her 
mind ? 

He put out the light, and himself fell asleep. When he 
awoke, it was broad daylight, and Nessa was now unmistak- 
ably asleep, her lips parted, her hands folded below her chin, 
as if in prayer. In the half light her hair looked black against 
the pillow ; her face quite white against her hair. 

Sweyn was seated at the breakfast-table when the door 
opened and Nessa came down in her dressing-gown, her hair 
simply gathered in a knot. He detected something unusual 
in her manner the moment she entered the room — a certain 
nervous rapidity of movement, a wavering look in the eyes, 
ordinarily so steadfast and calm in their regard. 

“ I hoped you would sleep for another hour,” he said as 
they met. 

“ I am ashamed to be so late. And now I have hurried 
down like this because I felt so anxious to tell you what — 
what I did not tell you last night.” 

“ Oh, about that poor fellow upstairs. I went in to see him 
just now. He hasn’t woke yet, happily. Well, we can talk 
about him over a cup of tea ” 


276 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ No, dear, I want to tell you at once — before anything.” 

“ Very good ; we’ll have it out at once. I talked about 
communicating with the police, and you asked me to wait till 
this morning : that’s where we left off.” 

“ Yes, we left off there because I could not tell you then 
what I must tell you now. He — that man ” — with her hands 
upon his shoulders she pressed her face close to him that he 
might not read the lie in it — “he is my brother ! ” 

“Your brother!” he exclaimed, holding her from him at 
arm’s length. 

She made no reply, but dropped her head to escape his eyes 
in an agony of shame, believing that he had already detected 
her in this deliberate falsehood. 

“ Your brother? ” he repeated, and then in a joyful accent, 
“ why, this explains everything, my poor, tortured love ! 
Your reticence with regard to the past, your shrinking dread, 
your mysterious embarrassment — everything. I understand 
now why you fainted in my arms : why you would not have 
me go into the study, or leave you in your room. After the 
attack I suspected that you had seen the man in my study, 
and that he had taken advantage of the servants being drawn 
there to escape by the stairs and hide in the first room he 
came to above, but it was inexplicable why you had not told 
me of his being down there. Nor could I at all understand 
wh}^ you would not allow me to send him away from the 
house. All is clear enough now. You thought 3’ou ought to 
have told me that there was insanity in your family before I 
made you my wife. You found it still more impossible to tell 
me afterward, and this has been a constant burden on your 
conscience. Don’t cry, love.” He drew her to his breast and 
kissed her again and again in joyful forgiveness. “This 
very weakness that betrayed you into silence is but another 
proof of your love for me. It is indeed a terrible thing to be 
tainted with this terrible disease ; but your brother’s case is 
not so bad as you believe. If I know anything of madness, 
his disorder is the result of accident, and not inherited. Your 
blood is as pure as mine. Your father and mother are per- 
fectly saue, aren’t they ? ” 

“They died while I was quite a little child.” 

“ Your brother has not always been in this condition ? ” 

“ I cannot say. I have only known him a few months. 
Oh, do not ask me to tell you more ! ” she cried, impulsively, 
for it cut her to the heart to take advantage of his faith and 
generous love. “ Promise me you will make me tell you no 
more,” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


27T 


“ Not a word. There ; sit down here and let me pour out 
some tea for you.” 

He kept his promise, and avoided speaking of her brother 
as much as possible, for he saw that she was restless, unhappy, 
and painfully self-conscious, and she would not, could not, 
look him in the face. This perplexed him now that he had 
conceived the cause of her embarrassment removed. 

One day he came to her with delight in his face. 

“I have good news for you, dear,” he said. “Dr. Channing 
has been here, and w^e have had a long consultation over your 
brother. He agrees with me entirely that the primary cause 
of insanity in this case is accident, and that the disease has 
grown to its present terrible proportions through neglect if 
not wrong treatment. Your brother has not the appearance 
of an hereditary maniac ; the symptoms all indicate a merely 
temporary derangement. I think we may confidently hope 
that your brother may be cured.” 

“I am glad of that,” Nessa said, gravely, without raising 
her head. 

“I have asked Channing to bring Dr. Hew^et. He, you 
know, is the greatest living authority upon mental disease. 
If he is of our opinion, that your brother may be restored to 
reason, all your distress will be at an end, my poor darling.” 

She made no reply. She could not even pretend to feel 
relieved. 

She would have had still less cause for relief if Sweyn had 
told her all that passed between him and Dr. Channing. 

“ We shall have to find out how long this has been coming 
on,” Dr. Channing had said. 

“I don’t see how we’re to do that,” Sweyn replied. “My 
wife can give no account of him before a quite recent period, 
and in her present dangerously nervous condition I fear to 
press her for any explanation.” 

“ Who has been his keeper ? ” 

“ I wish I knew. He’s responsible for a deal. I think his 
name must be Hexham, or something like that ; it is the only 
name my brother-in-law seems to remember, and he always 
speaks of him w’ith fear.” 

“Hexham, Hexham,” repeated Dr. Channing, reflectively, 
as he felt in his pocket for his notebook. “Wh}’, that re- 
minds me that a man with a name like that has been inquir- 
ing at Bartholomew’s whether a man of unsound mind has 
been brought in there. I made a note of it at his request. 
Here it is. ‘John Hexham, 25 G, Victoria Mansions.’” 


‘278 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ I’ll hunt him up to-day,” said Sweyn ; and he went out 
in the afternoon with that purpose, but saying nothing about 
it to Nessa. 

A few days after that, Dr. Channing brought the great 
specialist, and they held an exhaustive consultation over 
Anderson. When they had come to a definite conclusion, 
Sweyn sought his wife. 

“ You have to decide a very grave question, love,” he said. 
“ Our opinion is unanimous that your brother’s reason may 
be restored. A tumor, probably the result of a blow, has 
formed under the cap of the skull. Dr. Hewet has deter- 
mined its exact position. It presses upon the organ of 
memory, and is the cause of all the terrible manifestations 
we have observed. If the tumor is allowed to remain, your 
brother must grow worse, and his sufiferings be indefinitely 
prolonged. It is horrible to think what those sufferings may 
lead to before death ends them. But the tumor may be re- 
moved. By a simple operation his sufferings may be quickly 
ended, and the disturbed organs will renew their functions. 
Not only reason, but memory will come back to him.” 

“ Memory ? ” said Nessa, in a voice that was hardly audi- 
ble. 

“ Yes ; events now perfectly obliterated from his mind may 
return to him.” 

“He may know me,” Nessa said, in the same bated breath. 

“ Of course, an operation of this kind is not unattended 
with danger,” Sweyn pursued, disregarding his wife’s sug- 
gestion ; “ but in the hand of such a skilful operator as Dr. 
Hewet, the danger is reduced to a minimum, and it is hardly 
greater than that of administering chloroform. Still, it is a 
case in which the operation must be sanctioned by the pa- 
tient’s nearest relation. You are his nearest relative ; and it 
is for you to decide whether or not the operation is to be 
performed.” 

“ If I refuse, he will never know me,” Nessa said to her- 
self. “ If I agree to it, he will claim me as his wife.” 

“ You would like time to consider,” said Sweyn ; “time to 
think over the consequences ? ” 

“ No ; I have done that,” she answered, still bending over 
the knitted and strained fingers in her lap. 

“ If the operation is successful, as I believe it must be, the 
difference to him will be the difference of heaven to hell.” 

“And for me,” thought Nessa, “the difference of hell to 
heaven.” 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 270 

“ Shall I say that you will give your decision to-morrow ? ” 
he asked. 

“ No ; I will give it now. The operation shall be made.” 

And as Sweyn left the room with this sanction, she said to 
herself : 

“ There is no escape.” 

The operation was performed with comiDlete success. An- 
derson awoke as if from a horrible nightmare. The relief 
from pain was instantaneous ; memory slowl}', surely re- 
lumed. 

One afternoon Sweyn came to Nessa and said : 

“He remembers his sister. He has asked to see you. 
Come.” 


CHAPTER L. 

WHEN ROGUES FALL OUT. 

James Redmond was at Grahame Towers, occupied in the 
prudent pursuit of making hay while the sun shone. As soon 
.‘IS it was discovered that Mrs. Redmond had failed to kill 
Nessa in the arena, he saw the folly of relying on further 
hopes in that direction. Destitution, and the fear that Nessa 
would find friends before long to protect her interests, 
prompted him to return to the towers, with a view to getting 
wliiit he could from the estate before the hour came when he 
must bolt to escape arrest and punishment for his wrong-do- 
ing. He set about cutting timber wholesale. He would have 
sold every stick on the estate if he could have found a ready- 
money customer. But the big timber merchants W‘ere cau- 
tious. There was something in the man’s manner which ex- 
cited their suspicions ; they wanted to know too much about 
his right to dispose of the timber, and he could tell them too 
little to remove their scruples. His eagerness to get money 
down choked most of them off. The little dealers, however, 
were less punctilious ; but their means would not allow them to 
buy the trees as they stood and pay ready money even at the 
large discount offered. And so though the trees fell day by 
day, and the heavily laden wains were constantly on the road 
to Lullingford, very little money came in. He lived quite 
alone in the old house, in a hugger-mugger, slovenly, dirty, 
and miserable semi-savage way. He lived in the bedroom 


280 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, 


upstairs — slept there, cooked there, ate there in a stench of 
sour vessels, unwashed linen, foul tobacco, and stale beer. 
Every day added to his moral degradation ; yet despite the 
indifference which accompanies such self-abasement, he was 
not callous to the discomforts of his surroundings. His fall 
had been sudden. Within a recent period he had considered 
himself a smart man, and won a certain sort of admiration 
from barmaids, servant girls, and persons of that kind ; now 
when he went into Lullingford in his mud-caked dogcart, 
driving an ungroomed, ragged pony, he was an object of de- 
rision. 

“ It’s a cursed life,” he said to himself ; “ but what’s the 
odds ? It’s only for a time. When I do get the money for 
that timber I’ll make up for all this drudgery and privation.” 

One afternoon, having worried two pounds on account out 
of a weak-minded wheelwright in Lullingford, he treated him- 
self to a gallon of whiskey, and with the stone jar and other 
purchases for the week in his cart jogged home to the Tow ers. 
When he reached the open space before the house, he found 
two visitors waiting for him — both seated on the low parapet 
of the terrace by the gate. One was his wife ; the other a 
man he had not the pleasure of knowing. 

“ What have you come here for ? ” he asked, drawing up at 
the gatew^ay. 

“ Because there’s nowhere better to go to,” answered his 
wife. “ I suppose I’ve as much right to be here as you have. 
Anyhow, I’m your wife, and I mean to stick to you while 
you’ve got anything to stick to.” 

“ And who’s that, I should like to know ? ” he asked, point- 
ing his whip at Cummings, who, with less effrontery than 
Mrs. Kedmond, was still sitting in the background, w aiting 
for his introduction. 

“ That’s Cummings. He’s a pal, and he’s standing in witli 
us. WVve been saving up to come to see you, and it took 
all w’e had to get to Lullingford. We’ve walked over ” 

“ More fools you ! ” said Redmond, with a sickly grin. 

“We didn’t know you were there, beauty, with that lovely 
trap,” retorted the lady. 

“ Well, you’ve come over here for nothing, and you’ll have 
to walk back with nothing.” 

“We know a trick worth two of that — don’t W'e, Cum- 
mings ? ” 

Thus addressed, Cummings rose from the parapet, and 
coming forward, said : 

“ We’ve come here for business. Snacks and back answers 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


281 


won’t get us on to a pleasant understanding. If the governor 
will listen to reason, I’m agreeable to explain my views on 
the subject, and come to terms with him ; if he won’t, I shall 
do the best I can on the other side. But we don’t want any 
bullying, you understand,” he added, with a significant 
nod. , 

“What the devil have you got to do with my affairs ? ” 
asked Bedmond. 

“ What the devil have I got to do with it ? ” exclaimed Cum- 
mings, losing his temper at once — he and his partner were 
both irritable and touchy with their long dry walk — “ well, I 
think I’ve had a pretty good lot to do with it, one way and an- 
other. I’ve lost the best situation a man could wish for ; I’ve 
risked my neck twice, spent all my savings, parted with my 
last shilling to bring your missis down here — without which 
she’d never have come ; I’ve done five miles of a damned dusty 
road, sat jogging my heels here waiting for you over an hour, 
and got a back answer the moment I spoke a civil word ; if 
that ain’t enough to do in your interests I should like to know 
what you would have.” 

“ Who asked you to do anything?” 

“ That’s neither here nor there,” chimed in Mrs. Kedmond. 
“ We’ve each of us had a turn at the job, and we’re going to 
stand in equal for anything that’s to be got out of it.” 

“ Oh, I know what you’ve been at. Nichols has told me. 
You’ve bungled the job all round. You’ve wasted your chances, 
and you’ve lost your money, and you expect me to repay you. 
You’ve come down here as a last resource in fact.” 

Both Mrs. Kedmond and her partner agreed with a ready 
nod to this last statement of the case. 

“And you want a share in whatever I’ve got — is that it?” 

Tliey acquiesced again with perfect unanimity. 

“Wait a bit,” said Kedmond, jerking the reins, and giving 
the pony a cut with his broken whip. 

As he disappeared with the pony and cart through the gate- 
way, Mrs. Kedmond and Cummings, exchanging a glance of 
intelligence, descended the terrace steps sharply, and fol- 
lowed through the gateway. They suspected some treach- 
erous manoeuvre on the part of Kedmond, but he had gone 
simply to put up the pony in the court. They were repaid, 
however, for their caution, by discovering the whiskey and 
provisions in the cart — much to Kedmond’s disgust, for he 
had hoped to save this brand from the burning — and they 
helped to carry the goods into the house when Redmond un- 
locked the door in the gatehouse. 


282 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ There,” said Kedmond, when they reached his filthy room, 

“ that is all I have to share.” 

“ Well, we’ll begin on the victuals and drink,” said Mrs. 
Redmond. 

Redmond could not prevent that ; but he sat with his hands 
in his pockets, scowling at them in sullen silence as they ate 
and drank with greedy voracity the things he had provided 
for himself out of that unlucky wheelwright’s money. 

“Now, then,” said Cummings, when his cravings were ap-* 
peased, “ let’s have a pipe and a glass of whiskey, and come 
to business.” 

“ I don’t drink at this time of the day,” growled Red- 
mond. 

“ I do,” said Mrs. Redmond, helping herself largely to the 
whiskey. 

“ We’ve agreed,” said Cummings, striking a match on his 
leg, “ to go shares. Now, Mr. Redmond ” — taking a pull at 
his pipe — “ what’s the assets ? ” 

He was quite in a cheerful frame of mind by this time. 

“I’ve got nothing in the world but what you see in this 
room,” said Redmond. 

“ Humbug 1 ” said Cummings, sententiously, striking 
another match. 

“ Rot ! ” said Mrs. Redmond, setting down her glass. 

“ You’re at liberty to search the place, if you like. Why 
don’t you ? ” 

“ Oh ! we don’t intend to give ourselves any trouble about 
it,” said Cummings, thrusting his hands in his pockets, and 
spreading himself out with growing confidence. “ We’ve 
picked up a little information from the men at work in the 
park. Information that Dr. Meredith and the people on the 
other side would pay handsomely for.” 

“ That’s it,” said Mrs. Redmond, “ and we shall sell to the 
highest bidder.” 

“ Oh, that’s your game, is it ? ” muttered Redmond between 
his set teeth. 

“ It is,” said Cummings, calmly looking up at the smoke 
wreathing over his head. 

“You can’t get blood out of a gate post,” Redmond said, 
after a pause. “I tell you I’ve got no more than you see 
here.” 

“ Jim, you always were a liar,” his wife said ; “ you know 
you were.” 

“ And a fool as well, if he couldn’t invent anything better 
than that to take you in with,” Cummings chimed in. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


283 


“Jim, are you going to act square?” asked Mrs. Kedmoucl, 
\vaxii)g impatient. 

“ I’m not going to be bullied. You won’t frighten me, 
though you have brought a man to back you up. I know 
you. You’re as cursed a coward as ever drew breath. You 
wouldn’t have dared to come here without him. You’ve 
brought him, thinking to have me on the bounce.” 

“She brought me because she couldn’t leave me behind — 
-because she hadn’t enough to bring her down alone,” said 
Cummings. “Never mind that. Let’s stick to business. 
Now, then, about this timber. From what we picked up as to 
the value of trees, and a rough calculation as to the number 
you’ve cut down, it’s pretty clear that the sum realized runs 
into four figures. Where is it ? ” 

• “Where is it?” cried Kedmond, exasperated to think that 
the money was not in his possession. “Wh}", here it is,” 
and pulling out his notebook, he showed the i-ough account 
he kept there of money owing, and made it clear, rather by 
his manner than the statement of facts, that he could not get 
the debtors to pay. His vehement indignation was real. He 
even went so far as to own to the extortion of a trifle from 
the wheelwright that morning. 

“Well, if the money has not come in yet, we must wait till 
it does,” said Mrs. Kedmond, refilling her glass. “ I can make 
myself comfortable here.” 

“ We shall soon find out whether you are telling the truth 
or not,” said Cummings. “I shall stroll over to Lullingford 
to-morrow, and make inquiries.” 

“ Oh, will you ? ” 

“ Yes, I shall.” 

Kedmond looked at the disreputable pair with savage 
chagrin. He surmised rightly that the general reluctance to 
pay now was based upon the hope of not having to pay at all. 
The rumor he knew had got about that the timber was not 
his to sell — that he was in difiiculties which would oblige 
him soon to bolt. He was aware that his own poverty- 
stricken appearance encouraged the belief, and strengthened 
the debtors in their determination to withhold payment as 
long as possible. The presence of two other needy wretches 
at the Towers must make matters worse. And if this Cum- 
mings, with his blotchy face and threadbare, clerical costume 
(looking half prize fighter, half ranter), carried out his threat 
of making inquiries at Lullingford, all hope of getting money 
— even from the wheelwright — would be at an end. If they 
refused point blank to pay, he could not force them to do so. 


284 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


It was not in his power to take out County Court sum- 
monses against them. 

“Of course, if you are telling the truth, we shall have to 
stay on till the money does come in,” continued Cummings. 

“ Yes ; that’s all very well,” said Mrs. Redmond ; “ but we 
mustn’t let the grass grow under our feet. If that thing gets 
blown, we shall have to hook it sharp — all three of us. And 
it may get blown at any moment.” 

“ That’s clear enough,” said Redmond. 

“ We must get the money in at once.” 

“ That’s easier said than done.” 

“ Qh, is it? ” said Mrs. Redmond with a sniff and a toss of 
her head. “ You shall see. These fellows want a woman to 
talk to ’em. Men are no good at that game. I’ll go round 
to ’em, and let ’em have it straight. They won’t find me 
taking no for an answer.” 

Redmond turned away in mute dismay. He took part no 
further in their discussion, which grew more animated as 
they dipped deeper and deeper into the stone jar of whiskey ; 
but sat with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his 
hands, watching them with malignant hatred. They drank 
on until they became quarrelsome and Redmond fostered the 
hope that they might end with a fight, in which one might 
mortally injure the other ; but they drank on still, and be- 
came maudlin and imbecile. They drank more and more, 
insatiable with long-forced abstinence, and their speech grew 
thick and incoherent, and their hands scarcely steady enough 
to refill their glasses. 

Then Redmond, watching them, began to bite his nails, 
while a thousand pleasing possibilities resolved in his mind. 
So many accidents might happen to wretches besotted with 
drink as they were ; and some of these accidents might be 
fatal to both. The merest trifle, like the movement of a 
hand, might lead to such an accident. As this thought oc- 
curred to him, he raised his hand, yet still gnawing his nails 
at the quick, and looked round the room in eager search of 
the trifle that was to rid him of these two who threatened to 
ruin his last chance of success. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


285 


CHAPTER LI. 

THE VENGEANCE OF HEAVEN. 

Redmond’s eye fell upon the lock of the door and dwelt 
there. The key had been lost, and to secure it when he left 
the house he adopted a simple expedient ; he removed the 
screw that fastened the knob to the spindle of the handle on 
the inside, so that when the door was closed, by withdrawing 
the spindle on the outside, he could practically leave the 
room secure against any inquisitive intruder who visited the 
house in his absence. This saved him the trouble of fasten- 
ing windows and doors below whenever he chose to go out. 
The precaution was taken because of the workmen engaged 
in cutting timber near the house. As he looked at the door 
now, he thought how easy it would be to imprison his visit- 
ors in the room by just going out and withdrawing the spin- 
dle from the closed door. Of course, in the natural order of 
things, they could eventually find means to unlock the bolt ; 
but it would take them a long while to find a square instru- 
ment that would fit the place of the spindle, and in that time 
a good deal might happen. 

His eye, wandering from the door, fell upon the win- 
dow. The light was fading ; it would soon be dark. The 
window looked on to the court. That was paved with cob- 
ble stones. The room was on the second floor. A man 
throwing himself from the window must inevitably smash his 
skull or break his back. 

His wandering glance was next arrested by the unlit lamp 
on the chimneypiece. It wanted filling. Following a natu- 
ral sequence of ideas, he looked into the corner of the room 
where he kept his stores, and distinguished among the mis- 
cellaneous objects there a can of paraffin. 

With a gulp of feverish interest he turned his attention to 
the man and woman at the table. Cummings had a clay 
pipe in his mouth ; his head wobbled heavily from side to 
side, and he was rubbing up a screw of tobacco betw’een his 
palms. Mrs. Redmond’s arms were folded on the table ; her 
face rested on this pillow, and she yawned incessantly. Her 
bonnet was on the floor ; her tow-like hair fell in clotted 
wisps over her shoulder. 

Redmond’s temples throbbed with excitement ; he felt the 
necessity of movement and fresh air. He rose and left the 


286 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


room, feeling the loose door handle as he passed. His going 
was an occasion for his visitors to fill up again from the 
whiske}' jar, and wish each other good luck 

There was perfect stillness out on the terrace. Not a sountl 
came from the sombre park. Kedmond crossed the open 
space, and walked down the avenue till he came to the part 
where the woodmen had been at work. They were gone now ; 
the avenue was deserted and ghostly in the fading twilight 
and perfect silence. 

As he turned to the house, he heard Cummings singing 
with a droning voice, and when he ceased a hoarse burst of 
laughter from his wife. On the threshold he paused and 
looked round him once more with vague apprehension. Then 
overcoming his irresolution, he turned and ran upstairs two 
steps at a time. Mrs. Hedmond and Cummings were disput- 
ing again, gibbering idiotically across the table at each other. 

They took no notice of him when he entered the room ; he 
passed close by them without attracting attention. At the 
further end of the room was a large four posted bedstead ; 
he seated himself upon it, and fixed his eyes upon the man 
and woman whose silhouettes stood out faintly against the 
dim light from the window beyond. Besotted with drink, 
worn out with the fatigue of the day, they maintained a state 
of semi-consciousness only by the greedy desire to stave off 
sleep that they might still drink. Gradually they yielded to the 
growing stupor. Only an incoherent phrase as one attempt- 
ed to speak from time to time broke the silence. 

But as their wits grew more and more sluggish Redmond’s 
spirits became animated with a feverish, fiendish energy. He 
explored the bed, on which he sat, with his hands. It was a 
feather bed. Under that was a woollen mattress ; below that 
a straw palliasse. He was eager to carry out the purpose he 
had formed, and while his wife was yet maundering he got 
out his penknife and slowly ripped up the cases of the bed, 
mattress, and palliasse from end to end. He felt the soft 
feathers, the knotted wool, the smooth straw with exulting 
satisfaction, taking up a handful of each in turn, still watching 
the silhouettes that grew every moment less distinguishable. 
At last they slept ! He could just make out the figure of 
Cummings huddled in his chair, the form of Mrs. Redmond 
lying forward on the table, her head pillowed on her arms. 
There was no sound now but the stertorous breathing of the 
sleepers. 

Redmond rose, and feeling his way carefully, reached 
the chimneypiece. With equal caution he removed the glass 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 


287 


from the lamp and lit the wick, lowering it so that the glimmer 
was only sufficient to reveal the sleepers and enable him to 
make his way about the room. Crossing noiselessly, he softly 
turned the handle, and opened the door a couple of feet ; 
then he removed the knob from the spindle and put it in his 
pocket. From the door he worked his way round to the bed- 
stead again, and thrusting his arms through the slit tick, 
grasped a handful of straw and having stripped off the bed- 
clothes he drew the bed onto the floor and slowly dragged it 
to the table where his wife and Cummings were now dead 
asleep. Going down on his knees he thrust his arms through 
the slit tick and drew out the contents, silently spreading the 
feathery mass about the two sleepers. When that was done 
he returned to the bedstead, rolled off the mattress and emp- 
tied that, as he had emptied the bed, when once more he 
returned from the palliasse, drew out an armful of straw and 
piled it up upon the growing mass about the table. Patiently, 
stealthily, he went to and fro between the bedstead and the 
besotted sleepers until he had drawn out three parts of the 
straw from the palliasse and piled it up around his wife and 
Cummings. He paused and drew a long breath as he sur- 
veyed this preparation. There was something diabolically 
grotesque in the appearance of the two sleepers half buried 
in the pile of litter, but it did not draw a smile from Ked- 
mond. He took the whiskey jar, poured out a glassful, and 
having gulped it down, slowly emptied the jar on the piled- 
up straw, distributing it equally about both sleepers. Once 
his wife turned while he stood close beside her with the jar 
in his hand, causing him to hold his breath with apprehen- 
sion of discovery, but she only opened and closed her clam- 
my lips once or twice, and then snored again. 

He put the jar out of his hand hurriedly, and fetched the 
can of paraffin from the corner. It was nearly full ; there 
was more than he needed ; but he emptied it, to do the work 
completely. Now all was ready, and there was no time to 
hesitate. The smell of the paraffin might alarm and arouse 
them if either awoke. He fetched the lamp from- the chim- 
ney, glanced across the table to be sure that the door stood 
open ready for his escape, stooped down, and whipping off 
the chimney, set the flame to the straw that surrounded his 
wife. 

He had reckoned on the litter lighting gradually and on 
setting fire to the straw in several places, but it blazed up 
with a rapidity that upset his calculations. In an instant it 
seemed that the whole mass of saturated straw was one sheet 


288 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


of flame, leaping up to the ceiling and blinding him with its 
glare. Dropping the lamp, he dashed round the table and 
made for the door. The whiskey jar stood in his way where 
he had left it ; he struck his foot violently against it and 
stumbled, knocking it over. It rolled, and stumbling once 
more against it, he fell forward against the half-open door. 
It shut to with a bang ; but above the crash his ear caught 
the appalling ring of the loosened handle as it slipped out 
and fell upon the paved floor outside. With bristling hor- 
ror he put his hands upon the lock ; the spindle was gone — 
there was no means of opening the door. 

And now turning to the blazing pile, with the last hope that 
there might yet be time to stamp out the flames, he saw two 
'shadowy figures struggling in the midst of the column of fire 
while their shrieks rose above the hollow roar of the raging 
flames, which no human effort could now extinguish. From 
the feathers and wool dense clouds of choking smoke rolled 
out and walled in the blazing mass. Long tongues of creep- 
ing fire marked where the spirit had spread and streamed out 
over the carpeted floor. Kedmond retreated as they crept 
toward him like a vengeance, bending down to gasp for air. 
But there was no air ; the fire had sucked it up and was 
growing dull for want of it. His wife and Cummings had 
ceased to shriek ; the smoke stifled their cries ; but he saw 
them groping in the smoke, their figures marked out by the 
red smouldering patches on their burning clothes. 

Suddenly there was a crash of glass ; Cummings had found 
the window and torn the glass and sashes out with his hands 
in the frantic need of air. But with the inrush of air the 
flanl’es burst up with fresh energy, wreathing the ceiling and 
curling out through the broken window to lick the air, en- 
veloping the wretch who hung stupefied and powerless over 
the sill. With one deep groan, Mrs. Kedmond fell backward 
on the ground. The flames were at Redmond’s feet. He 
opened his mouth and gasped for breath, the fire seemed to 
penetrate to his very soul. He threw up his arms, reeled for- 
ward, and- dropped with a thud. After that there was no 
other sound but the roar of the flames, the cracking of wood, 
and the fall of glass and plaster. 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


289 


CHAPTER LII. 

THE ORDEAL. 

To shield herself, Nessa had declared that Anderson was 
her brother, not knowing that he actually possessed a sister, j 
believing that the disease which had deprived him of memory 
would be a safeguard against the discovery of her falsehood. 
By her own consent to the operation she had abandoned her 
safeguard ; and now that memory was restored, Anderson had 
asked to see his sister, and she was called upon to face him. 

Overwhelmed by shame, remorse, and despair, she was 
powerless to make any effort of self-defence. She felt that 
the end was come, her last resource gone, and that there was 
no alternative but to submit to the current of events and to 
be swept helpless and hopeless into the wide sea where lost 
souls sink. 

Almost without consciousness she accompanied Sweyn into 
the room where the two doctors waited with Anderson to test 
the extent of his recovery by this experiment. She stood be- 
fore them cold and white and motionless as a statue, with 
the dead feeling in her heart of the criminal brought up for 
judgment who knows the fate awaiting him. 

The two doctors rose. It was the first time they had met 
Nessa. Sweyn, with deep anxiety in his face, hurried through 
the form of introducing her. 

“My wife, Dr. Hewet, Dr. Channing,” he said, taking 
Nessa’s hand and keeping it in his. * 

Her cold hand did not respond to his pressure ; she made 
no sign of understanding, but stood immovable before Ander- 
son, waiting for him to recognize her as his wife. 

“Is this your sister Sweyn asked, anxious to get the 
scene over and relieve Nessa. 

Anderson took time to consider, and then, shaking his 
head, said : 

“ No, that is not my sister. Elsie is fair : not dark ; she 
is shorter and not handsome. This is not my sister.” 

“Are you sure ? ” 

“ Quite sure.” 

“ Remember, it is some time since you saw your sister — 
she may have altered,” suggested Dr. Hewet. 

“It is impossible that she could alter like that. She is 
older than I am : that lady is younger ; she is not my sister.” 

19 


290 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


“ Then you do not know this lady ? ” 

“I am not sure,” Anderson said, slowly. “And yet I 
think — ” he paused. 

Dr. Channing interposed, seeing the intense anxiety in 
Sweyn’s face as he watched Nessa. 

“We are taxing Mrs. Meredith too much — ” he began. 
Blit Nessa stopped him with an impatient movement of her 
hand. 

“ If you remember me,” she said to Anderson, in a clear, 
low voice, “ tell all you know*.” 

“I cannot remember all,” Anderson said ; “yet something 
floats in my mind as I look at you ” 

“Is it not possible that you had two sisters — another be- 
sides Elsie ? ” suggested Dr. Hew’et. 

“ Ah, that must be it I ” Anderson said, quickly. “ Let me 
think.” He was silent a moment ; then, with awakening rec- 
ollection, he continued, “ Yes, I remember : before I went 
to sea, a lad, my mother gave birth to a child. I see the lit- 
tle one in its nurse’s arms — before I ran away from home — a 
long while ago — in the time that is most clear to me.” 

“The time before your accident?” said Channing; “that 
is ten years ago. Then Mrs. Meredith could not have been 
more than eight or nine — quite a child.” 

“ Then she must be my sister.” 

Turning to Nessa, the doctor explained that most of the 
events that had occurred since his accident had failed to leave 
any impression on Anderson’s mind and would probably never 
be recalled. Then, as Nessa was seized with a sudden tremor 
on hearing this, he cast a glance at Sweyn signifying the 
advisability of terminating the painful scene. 

Sweyn led her back to her room, making no comment on 
what had passed — saying, indeed, scarcely half a dozen words. 
In her room Nessa sank into a chair and bowed her head, 
speechless with conflicting emotions. Sweyn stood by the 
door a moment, looking back at her in pity, and then left the 
room without speaking. 

Almost before the door closed, Nessa started to her feet, 
resolved to take the course shaped by her conscience. The 
interview had for a while restored, her hope of evasion. It 
had been recognized that she might be Anderson’s sister ; 
the danger of his recognizing her as his wife was removed by 
the fact that he could never recall the events of the late past. 
But though the opening of escape was offered her, she could 
not accept it. She could not live a life of falsehood with the 
man she loved. She had thought it possible ; the agony of 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


291 


these past days had proved to her that it was impossible. 
She must tell him all and go her way. 

From her wardrobe she took down the plain black dress, 
the plain bonnet and jacket she had worn in her situation at 
the Palace when Sweyn found her there, and which she had 
kept for the sake of dear associations. She laid aside her 
afternoon gown and put these on. Then she drew off the 
bracelets from her wrists and the rings from her fingers — all 
save her wedding ring — and put them in the jewel case Sweyn 
had given her. At the bottom of the box were the pages on 
which she had written her “Confession " to Sweyn. Should 
she leave them there with her trinkets for him to read one 
day when she was no more ? No. She would do nothing 
now to retain the love she had forfeited. She would take 
them away with her that he might the sooner forget her. 
When all her preparations were made, she looked around the 
room once more, and biting her quivering lips to choke down 
the passionate grief that rose from her soul, she turned 
hastily away. 

The three doctors went down-stairs, and sat talking about 
the case for ten minutes ; then Hewet and Channing left, and 
Sweyn, going into his study, threw himself in his chair and 
waited. 

It was not long before the door opened and Nessa came in, 
as he expected she would. 

“ I want to speak to you, Sweyn, if you can give me a little 
time,” she said, standing half way between the door and him. 

“All my time is yours,” he answered, setting a chair for 
her. 

She sat down, fearing her strength would fail, and after a 
moment’s silence, said : 

“I have done you a grievous wrong, and I have come here 
to make what reparation remains possible to me. I have 
been selfish and ungenerous to you who have given me so 
much,” she faltered. 

An irresistible impulse led Sweyn to lay his hand upon her 
arm. She had not the force to resist his touch. 

“ You would not touch me if you knew all,” she continued 
in faltering tones. “You will shrink from me, you must des- 
pise me, when I tell you what I am.” 

“ I am waiting to hear ; tell me quickly,” he said. 

“Sweyn, I am not that man’s sister ! I am not your wife ! 
I am his !” 

“ God be praised for this ! ” murmured Sweyn, fervently. 
“ I have been waiting to hear you tell me this ; waiting with 


292 


BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 


the sure conviction that your dear soul would triumph in the 
end. Without that conviction I could not have let you suffer 
in secret through the long hours of night and day that have 
passed since I learnt all. But I would not rob you, darling, 
of your triumph ; I would not deprive myself of this great 
joy.” He rose to his feet and cried in pride, “Now I can say 
my wife is honest ; she cannot wrong me.” 

I do not understand,” Nessa exclaimed, in perplexity. 

“Now that my tongue is free to speak, you shall know 
quickly, my dear love. I know all. I have seen Anderson’s 
keeper, Hexham. In tracing Anderson with the help of the 
police, the villainous plot against you was discovered. This 
morning the whole case was laid before me by the man em- 
ployed by Hexham — a man named Griffiths, who already 
knew something of your history.” 

“ But if you know so much, you must know that I am not 
your wife ! ” 

“ I know that you are my wife. You are mine and not An- 
derson’s. That was no marriage. If he had been free to 
make you his wife, such a marriage as that could be annulled. 
But he was not free. He was already married, and his wife 
still lives ! 

“ Oh, this mercy is more than I deserve ! ” cried Nessa in 
trembling gratitude as she sank to her knees. 

Sweyn raised her in his arms and folding her to his breast, 
said : 

“ More than you deserve, beloved darling ; no ! You have 
fallen into error and made atonement — sinned and repented. 
You have triumphed over yourself, and there should be joy 
in heaven now over your victory ! ” 


THE END. 


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